Poetry / Looking out a window (Analysis)

Looking out a window:
I see a stout Mountain
Holding onto the greens,

Like a hand
With red and yellow fingers
Pointing Against The blue
Sky mingling
With the greens;

A beautiful Picture,
But the smoke comes
To My peripheral vision,
Ruining the moment
The perfection of it—

Turning to disgust;
Blowing his stack
Puffing Monoxide, sitting
By the railroad tracks
Humming Dooms day

Waiting for the leaves
To completely turn
And fall into smothered
Carbon oblivion;
The smoke Stack stands still.

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