Through the Window

Through the window

 I know I see the trees 

taking on new birthed leaves,

 buds busting out in a colored song 

as a plane zips by in a clouded line

 I find like chalk dust leftover on a board.

  I don’t want to erase this image, 

this pleasure, this weather I horde,

that burns to be shared. 

 My face lifts to the dazzling sunshine 

as my mind buries the burden of depression 

and the compression of panic.

For I am sick of traveling beneath the blues

That ensues  gray faded days, 

the way the clock slowly winds

 down the harsh season in calculated tickings.  

I am picking myself an eternal view

Of daffodils and the still pane I see through

To the clarity of a realized me.

And oh the reflected joy I enjoy

As I peer through the clearness

Of happiness I see unmasked

In the task of simply being free.