Windsor World was written many years ago when I was on a sabbatical in Denver, Colorado and found myself on one of the surrounding mountains that had an old folk's home. I watched it in the cold night coming on and wrote this. Published, Coffee Press Journal, Copyright, J. Donald Coonrod

Windsor world lies
high above the city
where idle mists enfold
angels of the Lord,
and steel-barred windows
are shut against the cold.

There old ones
wrinkled as raisins,
vanish in the night,
crumbling into thin air
where no bud is set
against winter.

Dreams real as life
and life a dream,
subject or object
or in between—
a walk in the snow
without a print.