At My Bedroom Windows

I love my bedroom windows. In autumn, the trees are rich in color, a kaleidoscope of fanciful patterns. In the winter I look outside and see falling snow covering the tree branches. In late spring, the lush leaves give the outdoors the appearance of a jungle. Beyond the trees there are always children outside playing; their voices carry in the air over the sound of the babbling brook. Tonight, at the end of May, it's another gorgeous evening here at home.

I hear the distant sound of traffic. In the summer I sometimes hear music playing at one of the downtown pubs; it's light enough to be pleasant to fall asleep to. On the holidays I'll hear the crackling of fireworks and often smell the aroma of a neighbor's barb-b-q.

A light breeze cools off the warm room tonight. The sun is setting. Some nights I can see the moon illuminating the sky; other nights the darkness only brings out the sound of peepers and crickets.

When I am at camp, I can fall asleep to the lapping waves on the beach and the sound of loons. It's truly beautiful, but there's also a beauty to be seen, heard, and felt being here at home next to my bedroom windows.