A Sky is Like a Window

I wake on Christmas morning

to a red sun scooping

itself from the sky.

Clouds shape into eyes

looking into the wonder

of the world as if it is

a cup of tea, looking into

the trees, bent like old hangers,

against our frost-slid windows.

Inside, the Christmas tree

is a highway

of lights.

When I press the plug to the socket,

they light up one by one

like answers on a game show.

The moon, caked with night dust

lifts itself up into morning.


This poem was written for the We Write Poems prompt A Wordle Made Out of Us.


4 thoughts on “A Sky is Like a Window

  1. There are some great images in this poem: “red sun scooping/itself from the sky” and “the Christmas tree/is a highway/of lights” to name a couple. I love how visual this poem is.


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