Window

Her sadness was double,
it had two edges.

One looked out -
at a budding cherry tree,
and corrugated roofed
barns, and a road,
and fields turned up
like churned feelings.

The other stayed in
to see
her thoughts unwravel
and her lines
all wrinkle
in the lit up mirror.

Both were torturous.
If they met they
made a window.

'Look at life!' cried the pane.
'Look at the clarity of your vision!' cried Mother Nature.