Paul Willason Poet Free verse

Reflections on a Winter Afternoon

I touch the window glass. Cold.
Inside, the air is warm, comfortable.
It has rained all day and water
has gathered in pools that reflect
a gray, unbroken sky. There must be
meaning somewhere.

Perhaps hidden beneath what
is reflected, unseen in the veneer 
of form, masked in the silence
on which the raindrops write
their soft sound on leaves.
There must be meaning here,

deep in the shadows, coded
in the color of trees, the ferns,
flowers and in the muted tones
coated in the cloudy glaze 
of a watery afternoon. There must
be something inherent here,

alive within this patch
of what I see and what my senses
take in or there is nothing,
nothing but a beauty born of chance,
mechanical, relentless, mere
decoration to a most exquisite lie.

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David Kavanagh June 14, 2024 at 9:22 AM I have also pondered if there is any meaning in the reflections and shadows we see Paul, of course we can explain why they appear, but the real question is would we notice if those reflections never appeared, would reality be any less? all I can be sure of is that they are the consequences of taking in a particular moment, brilliant observational piece, cheers David Paul Willason June 14, 2024 at 8:53 PM There are times when the fabric of reality is quite thin and one captures glimpses of a shadow as if through a curtain...the problem is deciding what is real and what is hallucinatory. Maybe we are indeed imprisoned in a simulation, entertainmen t for a hidden observer. The mind shatters as if propelied inside a particle accelerator thinking about this stuff. Many thanks for your comments David.