A wizard with a purple coat and starry hat

It's called a 'window.' It's smooth
and flat and made of glass
and it's called a 'window'
because that's what it's called.
Don't call it a 'wind-no,'
despite all the logic
you want to conjure
to convolute the fact
that a window is named so
because it let the wind in.
This was in a former time,
of course, before we got clever
and melted our beaches
into see-through panes,
when there was nothing
to press your nose against
besides stone and metal,
dirt and grime, and not even
Merlin's magic could stop the cold
from penetrating your bones.
You've heard of him? A wizard
with a purple coat and starry hat.
That's as much as I could name.
That doesn't change the fact that
coughing all over this 'wind-no'
and drawing in the surface mist
is not itself a magic trick.
It's only hot and cold and moisture
and a million other things
we could measure
if we had the time, the tools,
and the reason of adults.