The woods on the television and not in the world.

My window,
The view of the world.
And yet, this television,
My current inspiration.
How funny, I say.
How very funny.
A programme about the poetry of nature.
And yet, here I am on my bed,
Watching the television.
Ignoring the natural beauty,
Which stares me,
So blankly in the face.
I shall ignore you for now world.
I will take solace in the show,
And not in what you show.
And so, as the black and white images,
Of MacNeice grace my screen,
I still ignore all that can be seen.
And as I learn about ‘Woods’,
I ignore the trees,
The sky,
The lights,
The earth.
Our mother be gone,
The televisions on.
And for tonight,
I am hers.