I look from my window at my tiny backyard,
The dramas carried out there are worthy the Bard.
Cats and birds play out their roles,
One never knows for whom the bell tolls.
Plants loved and hated struggle to survive,
While weather and the insects eat them alive.
My television window gives me the world.
In half hour slices the network directors unfold.
News, reality, docudrama, and soapy triviality,
All from the view of an advertising anomaly.
Along comes the computer that changes the world,
Gives us windows unlimited, time and space unfurled.
Windows of knowledge and windows of hate.
Windows of beauty and windows of great.
Windows unwanted and windows desired,
Windows that get the passions fired.
With so many windows I'm getting tired.
Copyright 2003 © Ronald W. Hull
Read War's End, the Novel