The view

 There's a world unfolding

While yours truly

Scrubs the pots and pans,

The most awaited chore of all. 

(Not)

Or perhaps, this window

By the kitchen sink 

Was designed as a coping mechanism

To the mundane and the bane.

A plot twist of sorts,

An attempt to make a miracle

Out of the monotony.

Those deep throated croaks

Of unnamed birds

Migrating to the warmth of the south.

Mr. Squirell serenading Miss.Squirell

As they scurry on the redwood fence,

Kind of aping the balancing act

Between the miracle and the monotony.

Seasons put up a show
And how..
Just the way only the source can pull it off.
Now there's bare branches spreading their nakedness
Like a challenge to the chaffing winter wind.
Now there's apple blossoms 
Popping out of the dry bark.
Luscious fruit, feeding the famished fauna
Lush green changing color pixels 
To a yellow, an orange, a red and a brown
Change.
The eternal element
Running cycles by the kitchen sink
While irises of a young woman
Absorb those slide shows
Growing up into a wisdom
Lent by time, stray greys and laugh lines.
The soap-sud soaked sponges
Wash away the debris of the dishes
The window by the kitchen sink
Washes away perhaps
The bore out of the chore.
Sending yours truly a memo
To keep her eyes
Her heart
And her thought
Open.
What greets her on the other side of the window 
By the kitchen sink
Can perhaps
Change the dull narrative!