And I find myself attempting to write poetry.
A VIEW FROM MY WINDOW
It is raining outside my window.
Climate scientists predict New England will be a tropical rain forest in the future.
It’s not hard to imagine.
Average rainfall in Vermont is 36.7 inches.
Days w/ precipitation – 151.
Fog enveloped many of our days this year.
It is 4 days to the midterm elections.
My younger daughter in Montana sends a text.
“If we don’t win the House we’re fucked.”
That is not exaggeration.
I light a fire in the wood stove.
And gaze out the window
Where the leaves have dropped and the rain pours down.
A stained glass piece made by a friend in Rhode Island hangs in the window.
Its prism captures rainbows.
When the sun shines.
Pheasant feathers to the right were given to me by my friend’s daughter when I visited South Dakota.
The turkey feather to the left was found in our backyard.
A local artist made the vase.
I brought the pine cone home from Colorado where my oldest daughter now lives.
I don’t know why I carried it home from the Rocky Mountains to the Green Mountains.
There are plenty of pine cones in my Vermont yard.
To the left of the pheasant feathers is a piece of wood Rich found in our yard in New Hampshire.
Where we once lived and raised our daughters.
He thought it looked like a bird.
If you have the ability to form new ideas.
To ask Why Not.
This found treasure came with us to Florida where we also once lived.
Then moved to the B&B in Connecticut where we worked as innkeepers.
There’s a long skinny piece of wood you can’t make out.
Below the crank that opens the window.
Discovered on a hike in Lake Tahoe when our peripatetic eldest child lived there.
We all agree it looks like a snake.
The views out my windows hold stories of our life and of a country we were once proud to call home.
I am older now.
My life savings won’t cover an exodus.
My daughters are here.
Across the Great Divide.
I don’t know what the future holds.
I long to be home.
With a still life of a window
In a country I once knew.