The Great Plane

each morning
i raise the window,
a small part of the day
slides in

with its bent rays of light
or not
its riot of color
or not
its stretching, yawning sounds
or not

each morning
i raise the window
to gently rock my life awake

some days are clear,
on this morning
dew clings to the glass
the tell-tale trail of a snail

who’s crossed the great pane
in the night
loops left to right
or is it right to left?

each morning
i raise the window,
sometimes just a crack
other times fully open

a window a mind
a heart a soul
it’s what slides in
or not
it’s what bypasses reasoning
or not

that sends us looping
across the great plane
left to right
or right to left