Feathered Glass

Why is the glass feathered?

Am I seeing the light layered
light upon light
like the essence of the pearl?

Or is there tracery of line
like laughter's faint
footprints on a distant face?

I think hawk, but see mist.

The unicorn blinks knowingly
life upon life
in the corner of my eye.

This moment an airplane summer
exhausted clean,
shivered timbers, back to work.

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Note: I spent last night reading a whole year's entries in somebody else's blog all over again to capture the essence, but it eluded me. This is all I have for now. The rest is filtering through and I expect to collect more residuals, for which poetry may barely be sufficient, and my skill not at all.