Dad used to do it.

He never left a streak.

He knew how to do it right.

He once had a summer job

As a janitor

In a hospital

When he was a teenager.

Mom says he should have been a doctor

Because he is so clean

All the time.

 

Spring is a good time

Cause first of all

The light,

It substantially

Increases

So we can see

All the streaks

And dust

And fingerprints

And that splotch

Where an unfortunate bird

Thought he could

make it.

 

Winter dark hides all dirt.

Even if you know it’s dirty,

What you can’t see

You can ignore.

 

But the world

Eventually turns

Toward the light

And you face

Your dirty windows.

 

Ignoring is still an option.

Depending on your personality

It may bother you a little or a lot,

You may be well-practiced in the art of “unseeing”

And you don’t like the view

From your windows anyways

So no bother.

Just shut the blinds.

 

Or it might irk you,

make you

Itch to lay hold

Of the closest squeegee

And then…

Clarity.

You breathe easier.

You cleaned your windows.

And you did it well.

No streaks

Like Dad taught you.

 

It surprised you

How dirty the insides were

Just like the outsides

And how you had to do both

Cause a one-sided job

Was pointless

Really.

 

When it’s done

And you sit

To enjoy

You realize it.

It’s not so much the view

You need to consider.

It’s more the light.

Unadulterated,

Pure,

Coming in

Filling your kitchen

Till you’re swimming

In gold.