window 1.
Snow falling at dawn,
melts in sunlight,
slipping from the eaves.
Raindrops hit the railing,
tick—tick—
scattering in a playful rhythm.

Window 2.
A bare tree,
twisting and swaying in the winter wind.
Dry branches push and pull,
leaving scratches behind.

Window 3.
A black plastic bag,
clinging to the tip of a branch, dances.
Its silhouette exposed in the wind,
it turns, ashamed yet never letting go.
The gripping fingers,
stained with longing.

Window 4.
A fragment of cloud,
drifting over low buildings.
Above the noisy street,
peace flows indifferently.
The winter sky remains unshaken.