The window in my childhood
bedroom facing southeast
hasn’t changed –

Same scratched sill, torn
screen

Sticking in the same place
when opened too wide –

but the world beyond it has

People walk their dogs
wearing surgical masks

The hospitals spill over
like cupped palms beneath
a broken faucet

And yet beyond the window,
the world goes on:

The absentminded Aspens
shiver in the gusting wind

Shaking their leaves like
tiny tambourines

The cattle graze in the
pasture, unbothered

And the familiar saw-
toothed silhouette of the San
Juans lords over it all

as it has for thousands of
years before me, as it will
for thousands of years
after I am gone.

– mrg