Best Windowed Poems

Book in hand, I find a quiet corner,
pillowed bench in bay window,
inside looking out . . .
or is it outside looking in?

Unread words signal for rescue, 
drowning in ink gone liquid 
welling up from some salty inner spring,
pressured heart the incessant source.

Weary thoughts wander 
outside...

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Glass and fine china 
Shattering to shards 
C and A flat echo outward 
Fog dissipating in crackling rime 
Moon winds knife through soft silk 
Sands race in rush back tide 
Browning thunderous rolls of surf 
A leaf , still green, torn from a defiant anchored...

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