Outside, other children play.
Inside, something makes me stay,
a separation I can feel -
invisible, but no less real.
VISIONARY PANE
You let light pass through,
Streaming visions of the world:
Its beauty, and not so beautiful self:-
You are indeed a paneing
Monitor of nature revealing whatever
Passes your fragile view:-
Though a barrier of so much,
You will open to receive breezes
Of whatever the screen can’t halt:-
It is said that the eyes
Are the windows of the soul;
Yet, closed eyes are not
As soulless as shaded windows:-
Gazing out my window pane,
so much comes into view.
Is my sight a reality,
I really have no clue.
Raindrops dew on leaves,
flowers humming with bees,
a cardinal perched on the sill above,
and higher yet flies a dove.
Sun breaks overhead,
beams of light
bounce off this garden scene
vanishing into the shadows in between.
All creatures big and small
nestle into their nook or cranny,
safe and warm like a glowing hearth,
a place I should really fancy.
But now it's time to close these shutters,
throw down the sash, no words to utter.
I will go to bed and get some rest,
not to come back here, I think it best
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
snow whispers secrets
only silence understands~
etching wisdom on
frosted pane of the soul
A single drop of water
Trickled …
Down the window glass
A subtle sign
Of things to come
Puddling there …
Finding shelter
In the crossed wood
It, too, wanted to hide
The darkest blue clouds
Cold, crisp winds
That bind my bones
Kept me behind the pane
A second drop of water
A third and fourth
Then … thousands
Made the golden leaves
Shine …
Like never before.
I talk to the trees
but they don’t listen to me…
I tell you my dreams
and while you’re listening to me
I suddenly see them
come true
—Alan Jay Lerner/Frederick Loewe I Talk to the Trees
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gaze Out the Pane
Gaze out the pane,
As if a wand turned dark to light.
Gaze out the pane,
Green leaves morph murky to champagne.
Piquant of trees; peaking’s excite.
Wonders you miss with oversight.
Gaze out the pane.
The nights were short,
A clear summer, long and hot,
A chickadee visited every dawn,
And caught a stunning view by the pane.
Maybe my nest’s walls knew,
A fluffy gray-black chick who...
Lit the sun pointed to my nest house...
Captured my morning drowse.
A courageous little skylark,
With a notorious chirp crack,
She repeatedly taps my pane,
And sharply beeps, in rhythmic strain.
Pulled from beloved slumber, I scan who,
Through my drowsy eyes, I view...
The vivid rattle, truly, she’s a great dancer,
My ears almost paralyzed by the clatter.
Through the solid unglazed pane its clear,
The morning breeze powers the air,
The lovely melody alarms my doze...
Tirelessly, she airs her pose.
The shrill stole my focus,
A lone owls’ hoot – a secret in the sunrise,
The arduous tweet feels counterfeit,
But the unfolding truth won’t lie or cheat.
.
she returnz
this time every
year
spring
when mine eyne
see thuh clear uv
Jehovah God Almighty's
Create
its vernal
sweet
az mine daffodil
front mine see
mine narez
complete
such thuh
cure
Just getting ready to open the door,
an old door with six panes of glass
filling the upper half of the door,
like six frames of distinct pictures
into the world.
Wanting to step outside and take a deep breath
of this warming spring morning,
but noticed one of the panes was different
than the others, distorted slightly,
like old time glass.
I took some time to look at the pane,
to find a slight discoloration of the glass.
All the window panes looked out onto a porch
and a backyard with trees just starting to leaf
and a few daffodils that were announcing
another spring was arriving.
But that one pane, with a differing hue
provided a slightly yellowish tint to the yard.
It made the daffodils even brighter and
the yard more sun drenched than it was.
It was, like art. One small sliver of the world
but it drew me in to take a deeper look.
I was reminded of the satisfaction that is found
by enjoying the small, unique things in life.
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.
Pictures of life are so blurry looking through the lens of a wet pane
Wind fills it with all its fury heavy; driving me today a cold rain
It howls with a strength; if only I could use the screen as a harnessing strain
But instead, I run from it just as a minnow swims towards a seine
It's tailwinds inflicted untold fear as they razed the central plane
There's life in this sky, elixir; as the Tulips push out of the soil this week, they can not restrain
Sunshine will fall again just as water always finds a way to drain
Such guilt seeing all the colors of the world unfold, it hurts so badly that it was expensed by others' pain
Winter rains lover
the cold north wind
fought against the thought of warmth
in which we would embrace again.
It holds steadfast to the slow
beating of the window pane
drums loudly out thoughts
leaving us numb.
Ice courses through veins
long forgotten canals
whom once held court for promises
of love stricken stars
that fell from above.
Silence is left shouting
deaf tones
of moments
long held to endless night
shade
which we decided to get drunk on
and parade
through the death streets of our ancestors
dancing dreams
with them forever on...
...movements to the song.
the air is the dust
the air is the mass
the dust is the pane
the pane is the mass
the pane is the air of dust
the pane is the air of mass
mass is a pane of mass
the air is the chemical
the air is the pane
a chemical is a pane of chemical
a chemical is a pane of air
a chemical is a chemical of mass
a dust of air is a dust of mass
a dust of air is a dust of chemical
air,pane,mass
dust,pane,mass
intelligent is a air of intelligent
intelligent is a mass of intelligent
a pane intelligent is a pane mass of intelligent
a pane intelligent is a pane air
dust is dust of a air intelligent
sandpaper savage today
buttermilk wavelength tomorrow
directions are like buffets in multidirectional earthquakes
yet and still i cherish the day
downward spiral clouded pepper today
scallops dipped in butter sauce tomorrow
arrows are like indecisive enthusiasts continuously banging their heads
yet and still i cherish the day
driving off of an embankment today
sucking nipples carelessly on a pillowtop mattress tomorrow
pathways are like emotional guessing games defiant to antiquated rules
yet and still i cherish the day
In between my drapes
my eye out the window
I guess I witness
the moonshine it's 11:00 p.m.
and as I sit in my living room
I look with mine eye and I see
the moonshine as I gaze
lunar shines
9/17/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
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