An Open Window

Headlamps of a locomotive bathe the surroundings in front and onto my slumbering walls in bright light. My neighbourhood is quiet at this hour, with most residents hunkering under warm blankets. It’s just spring and the trees have started wakening from winter. There is great anticapatation for the returning song birds who have just started to nest in our new backyard trees. I open my window and listen to their morning song. The cool air rushes down my nightgown and onto my feet. The morning is filled with long distance commuters with whirring wheels on highways within minutes from each other. I stretch my legs in the coolness, shiver and take in a fresh breath of air. I wonder about the songs I hear and how little birds can stay warm. I glance to that unstained wooden fence beyond the pond that in the glow of the locomotive I see a shimmering paper thin layer of ice covering the surface like a blanket, keeping the new life below protected. I think that beyond that fence on the other side, might be a far better place. I hear how they share laughter and I see the glow in their eyes for the loving embraces and the child growing inside her. The gentleness to the hand, touching her as she accepts with a smile. Between that wooden fence and my back yard is where I find my mind. A pond and some big pink and grey rocks that shimmer in the sun. The green grass is alike to finding in a mountain-top meadow, newly planted red maples, alder and grey fur trees with a grey pea gravel path incircling everything like warm arms. There are wooden benches to sit and contemplate the meadow, the fence, and whatever beauty and wonder that lives on the other side. This side of the fence is where you find me.Tea is poured from a kettle. I stare to the doorway not touching my toast recalling the open window. The cool air can only make it warmer within those four walls.

Originally written March 2005.