I washed the window of my mind
and sitting on the sill, looked out
for views of inspiration from my muse.
Parades gave me nothing as they passed
and wondered I where else to cast my eyes.
Suddenly a fine wind blew the casement open
and circulated dizzingly within
upsetting applecarts of art work
and opinions collected
during years of trips and education
contributing to theologies tried and true.
This fine wind sifted through it all,
blowing the stale and stagnant
into ingenious incinerators
then distributed assorted rainbows
as it exited toward the sea.
Ann Glover O’Dell
13 February 2017