Big, Tall Window Pane

Little child on the bus, chin on windowsill
sees a train
sees a tower
cries to cows
and cries to flowers
calls attention to the landscapers,
notes their busy work,
over bridges and under tunnels
her eyebrows twitch and perk
knocks on window pane to the drivers who can’t hear
leans her forehead to the glass and kisses her reflection, dear
While mother poised to her wakened angel next,
mother sits, stone legs crossed,
mother sits and texts.



The pools of damp leaves frame your newly cleared sidewalk passage
their islands trace the mundane journey to a place you don't care to understand
Keeping to the dry spots, you and the general You funnel through this trickled pathway
to kick aside the crumbled leaves
and make a clearing for those behind

Copyright © a contemplation (Emily Jones) 2013. All rights reserved.