The Binoculars

I once used to see what was left out of brightness. I could see the smartest concepts that passed by my window and know in a minute whether their genius was real. A bird with its prey would circle the field and beneath its beak I found the mouse. Hidden in a cocoon of detail, it was not stupid, just afraid. I saw a woman bathing a child from my neighbor’s apartment window. The child was safe in his curiosity just as I was in mine.  I saw men with briefcases turn into men with messenger bags. I saw pigeons on a mission and stories that floated from sky scrapers.  Now my lenses are smudged with a tint of nostalgia. I look out on visions passing by, but I only see my memories.

Photo by Linda Daunter