Article voiceover
...with thoughts of Baby Bianca
Walking in town late
one chilly evening,
I see a tiny window
filled with gold light
shining through,
high on the gable
of a third-floor loft.
I feel someone alive
up there, a person
I may never meet.
The window so high
and small and far away that
on any ordinary daytime errand
I’d never notice
its brief transparent flash
in passing.
But now that this glow
has touched my eyes
down here, I know
one thing for sure:
A window like that,
although it’s very small,
is infinitely different than
a plain unopened wall,
allowing precious light
to pass through it
both ways.
I’m also certain
that for the one who lives
up there, it’s more than mere
dark glass at midnight
or a patch of gray illumination
come the dawn;
for if we could draw near
and peer out from it
in those close quarters
where the opening
is very near at hand,
I am sure we’d see
something as big
as a world from there:
Something worthy.
Something grand.