It’s raining. Not a downpour, but the kind of rain I like: constant, gentle, steady. The kind of rain that cleans the air.

I opened the door to the back where there are large hardwood trees that fill a brushy, vine-covered, impassable micro-forest and see that everything is a shade of green; there must be a million different hues.

Every now and again a redbird breaks the green monotony and like a spotlight my eyes are drawn to him. A tease, he flits away from my view and returns frequently as if I should forget him.

A squirrel on the end of a branch clinging, scrambling finds his way back up to a higher position of stableness where he sits perched picking the most delicious parts of the tree for breakfast.

More birds travel in and out of my limited view. Do birds wonder?

There are times I feel longing for places I have never been. Do our souls, seeking comfort, travel while we sleep?

I close my eyes and let my ears see.

The birds sing.
The traffic drones.
The wind rustles.
The earth breathes.