Window View

Late mornings I will often lose myself
in the massive Douglas Fir outside my window
after a hush-like fog has burned off.
The supple Japanese maple in front
rotates the illumination of its branches from
penetrating sunbeams as part of its daily dance recital.
The concrete is absent in my tall rectangular view
and with my still hot coffee, I am able to forget
for a few moments
the damn dystopia of our world.

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