Reflections from an Open Window
Linda Raha's Writing Corner
The autumn sky is a blue ocean, fathoms deep. The birds chatter and tell their stories to the silent, knowing trees. How stoic are the trees, how majestically they stand, as the birds fly from branch to branch. I watch as the leaves fall soundlessly to the ground, one by one, a steady drift of
I have already begun to feel the pull of the changing seasons; summer is not yet over, but autumn is closing in. Pale yellow leaves are starting to drop from the trees, and the summer sun feels different, somewhat less bold. September will come softly as it always does, heralding a new season, diffused sunlight
She was my first best friend, the one who taught me to see the wonder in simple things. There was the robin's nest she showed me, and then again, when tiny birds fluttered by my bedroom window. I remember those eggs, so incredibly blue. She took care of the wild cats in the woods, brought
The leaves are falling endlessly upon the the slumbering, November ground, a state of sleepy wonder. They spin so softly as they fall, soft as summer rain, gentle as a first snowfall. I understand this autumnal shower; the trees give all they have to give, a final kiss goodnight, before winter. Yes, this is the
Winter soon will come; white snow will blanket the earth. I feel the shifting seasons in my bones; I understand the chill of what will be. Still, I cling to my pieces of sea glass; I hold them up to the sun. They shimmer endlessly, turquoise, green, and amber; yesterday's treasure is mine to keep.