THE WINDOW’s PANE

A spell cast, a net of wonder forever,      Transfixed in mountainous worlds, clever.      Isolated in chosen safe places, deep,      Sublime generosity, secrets to keep.      A portal of experience, a window's grace,      A reprieve from boredom, time and space.      A caress of melancholy, when skies open in rain,      An embrace of hope in sunshine, easing pain.      A pact with the vine leaves, whispers low,      A way to touch the seasons, where soft breezes blow.      Sending morse code-like candle messages bright, Literally to propel the narrative, in fading light.      Washing my soul in the earliest sunshine bath,      Where spirits rise, along a sunlit path.      Soul inclined to shrivel in confined space, it's true,      A cinema, window a screen, a world anew.      A picture, dipped in hues so grand,      Transient, aching, tentative, grains of sand.      Intend to live as slow as the vista allows to the sky, An idyllic portrayal, a repeat telecast, a painted dye.