As a child, my room was in a rather hot, stuffy attic. There were windows at each end of the attic, and when I opened them, fresh breezes could blow through—if there were any; some nights were just stifling.
What I loved most about these windows was that they allowed me to listen to the nighttime songs of the birds, insects, and especially the frogs in the nearby pond.
In our backyard was a caved-in fallout shelter built in the early ‘50s. The roof caved in at ground level, and since it ran under the pasture fence, it was truly a hazard; however, to me it was an endless wonder...tadpoles, creaks of a humongous bullfrog.
soul sustenance
the symphony of silence
in between