In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Through the Window.”

Wind is gently sweeping through the trees. There are Magnolias standing tall and proud. There are oaks that have been here since the neighborhood was established. The wind is not strong enough to bend these mighty trees but it caresses the leaves just to remind the oak that it is exists.

It is middle class neighborhood, with homes that were built in the 1950’s. Some of them still owned by the original owners. That will not be the case forever. As I look over the neighborhood, I am reminded that some of these owners have passed on and new people have taken their place. The new inhabitants are sometimes relatives and sometimes strangers to this neighborhood.

There is a comfortable coolness and relief from the humidity that bears down on us daily here. The heat and humidity of the day can be very oppressive. Usually, when it cools down, people can be seen walking down the street, doing yardwork, admiring their gardens or flowers or even visiting briefly with one another outside. Today, it seems that we are only met with silence and the absence of people and their busywork.  Where have they gone? What has taken them away from the neighborhood? Are they hiding from the pressures of the world behind the safety of their closed doors? Is it truly safe behind their closed doors or are the pressures equally as bad on the inside of their abodes?

The animals have free reign tonight. There are so many birds at our feeders . The cardinals have been coming for many years and now they bring their offspring. They are passing on their lessons for future generations. The share the feeder, with painted buntings, blue jays, morning doves, chickadees, and let’s not forget our favorite rodent, the squirrel. Sometimes they share the space. Sometimes they fight for space. Either way, they all manage to get their fill before they settle for the night.

There is a small hummingbird feeder near the window and they are thrilled that we have refilled their nectar. Our little one watches as the tiny beasts fight one another for a taste. They are so quick and aggressive.

The crickets and the frogs sing each with their own distinct sound. They are not fighting for musical space, but rather sharing it and working together to make the sounds that we hear as night falls.

What has been left unseen? With only a minute to glance, what did my senses take in that are not quickly coming to mind? I am left with that question and I wonder in the morning what I will remember of my moment “Through the Window”.


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