Through the Winter Pane 8
Snow is beginning to fall;
flurries drift;
cedars wave in the wind.
The snow is picking up now, sweeping
sideways across the field
with no particular destination in mind.
I look through the window,
thankful I don’t have to be out.
Cold and uninviting.
More traffic as I watch through the pane,
protected by wood and glass.
I ask myself:
why does life pass through
such low times;
yet, it remains warm and glowing inside.
Seen through the pane,
the scene looks harsh,
but doesn’t feel.
Silent. Emotionless.
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