I tinker
with the store
bought window
that keeps the storms at bay,
those nor'east winds
that blow
and through their sounds
pure thoughts convey.

The sun has gone
to seek it's dawn
past the eons beyond measure,
where dwell her calls
to the sharp footfalls
of the horse of furious fancies
to loose the fire and set at ease
a myriad of echoes without censure.

On this cool night
Orian's light
in his angled flight
precisely guides
and deftly saves
all that he surveys.

This late night view
comes through the glass
framed by the window panes.
It's clear clear blue
holds and contains,
becomes a pass,
reflected by the conjoined walls
leading down the halls
there to retain
to touch and chime the bells
that savor the perfume,
of angels in their play.
and favors this white room
with the grace for the Pleiades to stay.