the window

i see the glass
needs cleaning.
i look through
my window.

i see the bird
circling above clouds,
then golden mist
and through it light

and there- the bird
coming at me
and swaying off
to climb the sky

it will not rest
on my hand,
a soul in flight,
i glimpsed its eye

i feel good
it was not a
fighter plane
coming out of

a blinding sun
shooting at me,
but i feel so sad
that i am still alone

i open my window
and throw crumbs
out into the garden,
seeds into the snow

maybe another year,
they grow
and will be green
and remind me

of my heart
soaring high,
hidden at night in
the folds of  wind

open to void
and bleeding
into a space
beyond.