Through The Window

Oblivious I was
Despite my many, contemplative visits
To the forces of nature
Present in the room

To the webbing and vining
And careful intertwining
To the sweet and slow surrender
Of this window to the elements

I was always in such a rush, you see
To leave and get back to my friends
That when I noticed it first
I was half way out the door

I stopped in my tracks
And sighed to myself.
You only get the vista
If you are a mista.