The Watching Windows

THE WATCHING WINDOWS City of a million windows all lit up At the hour of vermilion dusk The void dims into deep violet With great horizontal bands of inky blue-black Clouds - harmless, unmenacing - Yet determined to block the last efforts of the sinking sun. And the windows add their puny effort - Their muted clarinets - to the strains of The fading golden orchestra’s brassy finale. Little yellow squares all watching me watch them : Close fellows staring fixedly into my bedroom; More distant cousins already blinking with sleep. Windows in vertical piles waiting to Be darkened as the clock hands sweep Up the last vestiges of day, And switch on the tiny fiery flares Over the blue-black vault : watchful figures, Ever-vigilant, never sleeping, windows of the sky.