Monday's Poem: The Window

The dog, whose every breath will lift
and fall like a beating of wings
and who lolls like a fat man in an armchair,
all day will listen to the heat pump humming
and stare wide-eyed out the frosted glass,
sentry
to the world beyond the window.

And the little winged beetle, staring at the wind he cannot see
and throwing tiny bone-limbs against the window
as if he could make it disappear
like platform nine-and-three-quarters ...

Elsewhere, mothers from their kitchen stools and children in bright classrooms
stare low-lidded at the bird in the shadow dancing
and the muted rain that slides down the arms of the wind chime
rusting.

Upwards the window gazers stare
to the clear
and white
and blue
half-planning an escape
to the world beyond the window.

• Madison Hamill is a 15-year-old writer who lives in Dunedin.

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