Nature goes flying by the big window,
Its flatter and bigger than home,
Cards, books and sandwiches,
Green and yellow fight in a vast expance of farm land.
The talk about paper politics fills my thoughtful ears,
Bright yet dreary,
I breathe on the window and draw my name,
The glass is cold.
A 'T' over the trees,
An 'O' over the house,
And a 'M' over the cows.
For a moment the world is mine.