Through the framed glaze,
False landscape.
Inside looking out.
Deceived bird;
You cannot enter
My glass house.
You cannot fly through
The reflection of your transparent
Sensual world.
I watch from inside,
Unsure your fate
Lying numbed and silent; dazed.
A twitch...
You fly away.
I open the window to cheer you on.
The breeze is cool,
Spruce scented.
We are free.
-Ron Crete, MN
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