Confinement

April 22 2019

An invisible river

of frigid air

spills in over the sill,

dropping

like a silken veil

pooling out across the floor.

I think of water

plunging from so great a height

it is atomized into tiny gossamer drops;

like Angel Falls,

a soft cooling mist

where the daring walk in wonder.

But if the window is closed

I toss and turn all night

re-breathing the same stale exhaust;

like a sickroom

with its fetid warmth

and the bodily smell of confinement.

So when it comes to windows

there are 2 schools of thought

     —   fresh air

which the old people said

will keep you healthy and strong,

and sensible indoor air

walled-off from a dangerous world.

But in summer, I sleep out under the trees,

the spicy tang of balsam fir

the balm of evergreen,

the mulchy scent of fertile earth

a cooling lakeside breeze.

And the soft stirring of leaves

as if breathing on their own.

While on the 20^th floor

the windows are sealed shut,

recirculated air

filtered and moistened and warmed,

the noise of the city dulled

its dirt and stench kept out.

I press my nose

up against the glass

and a fog of vapour forms.

A slowly spreading cloud

that blocks my view of the world;

peering out

from artificial light

into night's impervious blackness,

from calm climate-control

out to the gathering storm.

I need an open window to sleep. Even on frigid winter nights, I'll often crack it. The cold air pours in over the sill and piles up on the floor, like pooling water, until it over-tops the bed. By that time, of course, I'm cozy warm, cocooned tightly-in under blankets and quilts . The fresh air isn't only a psychological necessity, it affords the luxury of heavy covers, and who doesn't sleep better under all that reassuring weight? I often need a fan, as well: even the lightest movement of air across my face sets me at ease. A close stuffy room seems unhealthy, fresh air invigorating.

Philosophers, old wives, and healers have all debated this weighty question. And I have no doubt as to the answer: hale and hearty outdoor air.

Except, of course, I have the luxury of living out in the country, surrounded by trees, where the air is good and the surroundings quiet. In warm weather, my bedroom is open wide, and I might as well be sleeping outside.

So it's even harder for me to imagine being cooped up in the middle of big city in a climate-controlled apartment behind windows that can't be opened: looking out through triple-pane glass; breathing recycled air; hearing nothing of nature.