From A Windowsill

I wonder if plants bred in captivity

Watch from windowsills

And crave freedom like we do;

I wonder if their spirits yearn

The company of fair birds 

To be tickled by a cheeky squirrel

Sweet nothings with the wind

The stern glare of the sun

And the moon’s lullaby;

I wonder all this

As I watch the world with them

From a windowsill.