Through My Window

A man runs promptly by my house each day.
Frequently, I’m counting his each passing.
I observe him through dirty window panes
Often I wonder why he chose this path.

And is he running to or from something?
Is it the past or future that calls him?
Knowning the cadence of each of his steps
Provide answers that only he can hear.

He wears glasses that seem to shield his eyes
And only allow one frequency through
I wonder if he ever stops to note
The saturated spectrum of color?

No matter the season or climate near,
his endless loyalty is evident.
His resolve is completely masterful,
His peace is present in each step he takes.

As he crosses the panes of my window,
Left to right, then back right to left again,
He adheres to his pendulum pathway
Never diverting or altering course.

Living between the cultured lines in life,
I long for the day I do not see him
For he has choses an unlike pathway
And embarked upon a newfound journey.