The Glass Eye

The Glass Eye My window is an eye on the morning stretch. Raspy green grasses tangle up in the vetch. A mama quail runs down the soft red clay path. Her fat round babies edged to the drain for a bath. I see the hill slope up in poppy and craggy oak. One lone gray cloud trails on cobalt blue, like smoke. The sounds of a barn owl are near but it hides, And only my window can find where it resides. Then finally, the children dance by on to school. The window knows innocence here in the rural. A giggle, a shout, dropping books as they race, The bus winks lights, on the knoll, in its place. My window blinks back with it's stare of the hill; Its shimmer reflects our morning time drill. The eyelash curtains brush back with the breeze, I turn to my paper, and coffee, and do as I please. By Edlynn Nau © April 20, 2016