The view from the library

From the library where it’s quiet
and still
and calm,
I watch the bustle in Civic Square,
where it must be raucous with chattering
and alive with excitement
and very, very windy.

If I had the words,
I’d describe the colors of
  the stilt-walkers’ costumes
and their diaphanous wings,
the chessboard-like group of school-children
uniformed in yellow and green
having their lunch on the grass;
if I had been out there,
perhaps I could then describe
the warmth of the sun and
the strength of the wind,
the songs the band is singing,
and the smoky, delicious aroma
of onions and hotdogs cooking
  on the barbeque.

But I’m in the library
where it is quiet and still,
save the muted rasps of turning pages,
watching it all;
and, but for the view,
I can only try and imagine
what it is like out there.