Here it is
Man's shelter was once without a way of sight.
Then, animal skin and flattened horn let in
Now, we take for granted the wondrous window pane,
Keeping out the cold, the wind, the rain.
Rigid, fragile, silicate crystals all in line,
Let sunshine on your shoulders, oh, so fine.
At another time, snowflakes silently add another frame,
And the frost paints many patterns, none the same.
With each morning light, new sounds and colors greet the eye.
Raindrops patter, the wind may rattle, blue may be the color of the sky.
Branches with new leaves
and blossoms that seem to wave goodbye.
The pane permits the hum of insects and the warbler's song.
What a great creation is the window. Wider, taller, can't be wrong.
So, why do people want to shut out the light? Close the curtains and the blind?
Make the window a blank space, dull, opaque? What's outside, to give no sign?
This I cannot understand.
But everyone has their own mind.