Autumn Window
for William Marr
Here on the top of the hill,
over the rose dale –
your book, my companion –
in the cool morning.
I look from my window
into one of autumn
in the fragrant wind, softer
than that of Chicago.
Over the black backdrop
the white picture frame
is suffused with balmy softness -
those tender eyes,
a window into wisdom.
I think of you at work –
of war, an old woman
who lost her only child;
of freedom, a bird
which leaves its cage.
Your every line,
every thought, like rivulets
from all directions
flowing into the sea.
Flowers are now in full bloom.
When red maple leaves fall
I'll open the window once more
to read this mellow autumn.
* Autumn Window, a poetry book by William Marr, a poet from Chicago .
