Window
The day passes quickly
With snow this morning melted now
And sun moving towards the DX -
It reaches in through the afternoon window of the thinking room
It moves from east to west
Or from left to right
Hides first behind the pines
Then the edge of Allt-Ty- Grug
February sun is low in the sky
So low it highlights the texture of this page
My wrinkled hand
And the threadbare hair upon it
Every day it ticks past this window to the clock's hands
Whether I live here or not
I grasp the day though
And love the way the back lit paintings on the sill come alive
I love the size of this sunny window
And the way it warms the room and my older bones
I see sparks of light
And cultivate a whole forest of ideas in my armchair
As this earth's day continues its flight
Through the eternal air
Now to translate this into a painting.
The day passes quickly
With snow this morning melted now
And sun moving towards the DX -
It reaches in through the afternoon window of the thinking room
It moves from east to west
Or from left to right
Hides first behind the pines
Then the edge of Allt-Ty- Grug
February sun is low in the sky
So low it highlights the texture of this page
My wrinkled hand
And the threadbare hair upon it
Every day it ticks past this window to the clock's hands
Whether I live here or not
I grasp the day though
And love the way the back lit paintings on the sill come alive
I love the size of this sunny window
And the way it warms the room and my older bones
I see sparks of light
And cultivate a whole forest of ideas in my armchair
As this earth's day continues its flight
Through the eternal air
Now to translate this into a painting.
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