I am looking

Through the closed window

At the skeleton of a tree

In the garden

Under the solemn rain

Of a winter day.

There is a sense of waiting

In the solid silence

That hurts the eyes.

I am looking

Through the window

At a beautiful tree in the garden

Seeing a young virgin bride

Standing with pride,

In a green dress,

Adorned with pinkish white blossoms,

In the caressing sunshine

Of a spring morning.

There is a sense of happiness

In the serenity of the space

That gives the eyes a new vision.

I am looking

Through the open window

At an apple tree in the garden,

So abundant, so perfect,

That seems to have expanded

Beyond the borders of the universe.

Each apple,

Red, round and radiant,

In the ripening sunshine

Of a summer day,

A newborn planet

In the green galaxy

There is a sense of deliverance

In the air

That invites the eyes

To a sweet, dreamless sleep.

There is no journey for a tree

From season to season:

It is only my memory

That divides the ocean of time,

The eternal Now,

Into drops of moments.