Where to Begin

A poem.

Where to begin Five windows
 were all I could afford. And so
 I hung them in the air and set a chair
 beside each one. Found cats
 to sit upon their sills. Some days
  I sat and gazed
 into a dark wood, cool
 and sown through with thrush music,
 yellow flickers, lady slippers spinning
 on their stems and when
  a ceiling slowly formed and hovered there
 for months and into years, I waited,
 watching, until walls
 filled in the space
 between them all.
  – Deb Hensley

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