Rooftops from my Window

While I wash the dishes
the tops of houses, roofs and chimneys
(nothing special, mundane)
are my view, squashed in,
from my kitchen sink window.

I trace them with my pen gazing
they are revealed, unfolding

Pretty semi-circle patterns of the burnt umber tiles,
dark frames horizontal and across.
Aerials perched criss-cross precise,
reaching to the sky pinging.
The chimneys black stains and ridged tops.

A man opens his attic window slightly
a seagull rushes, hopping outside it excitedly,
unmasked emotion.
Returning with food, the man is smiling.

How beautiful that they have found each other
and fulfilled their longings.

Yes, to open my eyes and gaze awhile
reveals the true nature of things,
the pure beauty of everything,
hiding there in quiet, plain sight,
constant.