There is something so enchanting about a beautiful window. Perhaps it's the way the light dances and laughs through the panes, or the view from out of it's glistening surface. There are times when to sit at a window and gaze out, at nothing in particular, is the most wonderful thing in the world. To allow your mind to just wander back and forth between whatever this window may evoke, could be no more perfect at the time.
There have been many windows that have played significant roles in my life. Windows who's views, panes, or glass seemed to spur something in my soul, that demanded I take action and do whatever it was they were demanding I do. At times, it was the view I saw. Some windows showcased a shining, twisting, curving river, framed and surrounded by low blue ridge mountains. Some windows showed a beautiful back yard, full of childhood wonder and wisdom, swing sets and fig trees, wood piles and gardens.
Some proudly exhibited the beautiful, lonely sea, evoking emotions perhaps deeper than any other view. Or perhaps, there was haunting beauty that my heart found in the glass itself. Glass that was old and waving beautifully with time, glass that was clouded from years of standing between the inside and outside worlds they were caught between.
Some of the glass panes colored their outside views a bit blue or green, causing everything seen to be magically altered. And how could I withstand the charm of how many windows, especially those that are forever frozen in time, are dressed. There is nothing that gives me a thrill quite like a well done-up window. With panes thrown open and a gentle breeze softly lifting the cloth of choice hung there, the sight quietly steals a corner tucked away in my heart, reserved only for ordinary beauty such as this. In these moments, I know that from said window, anything is possible...
There's a certain slant of light,
ReplyDeleteOn winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes....
-Emily Dickinson
Thanks Mark:-) Love it.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome...I always think of that this time of year...I wrote this for her...about that poem...thought you might like it...being about windows and all....
ReplyDeleteBelle of Amherst
Palest frailest mayflower
I think your window
Must have been cut
From heaven’s crystal city
What wonders flowed
Oh what strains
Of celestial light
Were magnified, found focus
Through that glass
The bird of sunlight
Delivered to your room
Each mornings revelation
Clutched in its beak
A burning coal
And nightly the moon
Bloomed into your room
A flower who’s secrets
Were whispered only
Into your lonely dreams
And not that you could
Or would ever tell
But I wonder if you watched
The Angels keep
Your window clean
Or perhaps you saw
God himself wiping off
Summer’s dust and sweat
And winter’s frozen tears
From your little portal into Paradise