The window frame centers the wall, a bas relief of cream against the waves of burnt sienna. Six feet high and three feet wide the window is cor niced and crowned by the benevolent gaze of beveled bullseye rosettes.
The muntin bisects the window into north and south. Each pole is divided by nine, graphing eighteen adjacent worlds each distinct yet sequential.
The soft fog of curtain sketches the surface in cabochons and brilliants. Within those hollows the concave drops of grey winter light rise up to rim the threaded borders. Miniscule mirrors reflect and magnify the morning composition.
Angels dancing on the head of a pin, each lavender puddle is a universe. Archimedes’ constant reflects from the pattern scattering in parallel arcs of fixed circumference. Echoes falling back, whorls of frozen mer ingue float down to cover the dark green of cedar bows.