The Image In The Window, and What She Did With It

At a window, flat-faced from eagerness
she yearns to appreciate the coldrock snow,
and the sweet fire rolling in the sky,
dissolving clouds in its wake,
to blow kisses into the air and dream of their end;
their end: when the winds carry them to unsuspecting strangers.
she yearns to be cocooned by a flock of butterflies,
to carry this burden up to the highest mountain,
and when she reaches to pointed peak,
to release them all in an explosion,
colors in streams reaching out to the earth the sky the ethereal worlds beyond,
undressing her, the pale beauty.
In her cabin, the door gives way to the elements.
Desperately she sends her body to stop it.
Desperately she is a shut-in.

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