The breeze coaxes
the windows open:
Windows as large as doors;
Windows as small as Nana’s china blue
Windows of rainbow coloured glass
covered with trees and angels;
Windows frosted, so you can’t see through them,
textured and light grey.
The breeze beckons the windows open
The breeze doesn’t care if they are latched
or pushed out
as long as
The breeze remembers when
windows had no glass
and were just open squares in
the walls and there was no air conditioning.
The breeze knows that some windows
are so clean and clear
that when they are closed
clueless birds fly into them.
Whoosh! Ha, ha!
The breeze chuckles its cooling fresh breath
through open windows
into the outback houses
wishing for the end of summer.
© June Perkins
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #6