When Windows Get Small

When Windows Get Small

When windows get small and the days become shorter

My interior quivers

When windows get small and I watch the butterflies perform their late August flutter

When windows get small

And the air speaks of autumn

And the leaves begin to tinge ever so slightly to those searching for new windows

When windows get small I stretch my arms wide

as if by some super human power

I can pause the closing of one season into another.

I know I should be able to do this,

after all, I have watered my mustard seed of faith over the years

and it’s not like I’m trying to move a mountain,

and it’s not like I don’t appreciate all the seasons here in Maine

it’s just that I’m a fish, not a bear

and I’m not done swimming.