Every window of this house
Shows a different view
From one the daffodils
From the next the pear tree
The kitchen window frames only
The neighbor’s too-close wall
But it lights up like a prism in the sunset
From one bedroom, iris
The other filled with lilac blooming in mid spring
Each view changes
With the weather, with the clock, with the season
Like looking down into a mountain valley
Entombed in snow enveloped in fog
Enlivened in summer meadowhood
Obscuring the isolation
Of this simple suburban street.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 29 (two dates late)

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