...in the grainy grass
...through the window with no glass
...i brush my hair with pine needles everywhere
...as i lay down to stare at the first and the last of life elsewhere
...i watch through windows of years gone past
...i grieve intensely as i relive the loss of mooring masts
...i watch as twilight rain mist the window with no glass
...i see reflections of falling in love in tumble weed grass
...i watch as three moments of birth occur
...i thank the upper One as life slides with purpose past my trembling loins
...i watch as countries burn and protests churn
...i pray for peace and strain to learn what come from grass fire urns
...i believe that if i keep staring
...the window will open and new firsts will become new moments of again
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