view from my window

On a weekday my window is dressed in slatted blinds,

My sight becomes tunnel-vision and narrows down my mind:

I squint at the sky to see if I can wear what I like,

I peer at the road and decide to ride my bike,

The clock’s hand  races — is lifted in a victory- punch–

I throw together a sandwich for my hurried lunch.

But today is a holiday – my time is my own;

My window is wide open, my clock has slowed down,

I see a blue sky , and blooms on the tree

My mind unspools , new thoughts range free:

Were these new ideas born in the free air and space

Or did they crystallise  in the pressure of the daily rat-race?

I do need pincer-grips of work to smash together ideas and thought

To release an outpouring of the creative energies I’ve sought?

Without a substratum of busy routine, I find–

I am stuck in the doldrums of my lethargic mind!

 

 

 

 

 

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