Window
Window
A holly branch,
dodging shade,
seeks its share of light
as I, impatient, stare,
unable to rearrange
chance and change
that a winter made.
An artist invents a world
that remains the same.
The permanent keeps us sane.
Even stars exfoliate
gladness like some inner light expelled
to mend a bad moment gone more sad
that the universe, so big and easy! went mad.
Kirby Congdon