On the other side

Dead of winter and outside the trees stand bare,

hard and cold is the ground beneath its dusting of frost,

cold is the breeze that blows throught the leafless trees,

and chilly is the dying day as it gives way to colder night.

Yet through the tinted flower petals edged in the glass,

a world of changing colours moves before my searching gaze;

where the seasons parade in a kaleidoscope of rich hues,

where dark sluggish clouds scud against a ruddy sky, or

puffs of white cotton are blown across a firmament of blue;

where gentle ripples from a warm sea expire on shore,

or furious foaming waves crash across defiant rocks;

where soft breezes are like the gentlest of caresses

and howling winds like icicles pricking the skin;

where the dazzling globe of the sun climbs in the sky

sending its heat to earth to rouse life and hasten death.

This is our World... from this side and the other side.