The Window Poem by Gert Strydom

The summer-sun burns blinding
on the window, mirror image on my eye
where trees, the rocky garden and plants
change gripping to an arched sky

above a domed sea
with reflection of light,
with fencing poles that are crossing rearranged
to a float drifting in equilibrium.

I am for days in the doldrums
and nights long, how long I cannot say
while I wait on the gusts of wind
that have to carry me away and I am full of apathy

until the wind, the sea thunder foaming throws me
in into eternity, far past damnation and the hell.