The Window

Visions of the year flowing past.

In the summer,

trees so packed with leaves

that critters hiding in the trees

cannot be seen,

only heard.

A rustle of leaves, heard through the open window, 

alerting the dog to its presence.

The window,

the soul of the home,

letting light fall through its frame,

Opening to bring in the sights and sounds of spring and summer.

In the winter, usually closed, except when a pan of food is cooked too long, resulting in burnt food with lots of smoke.

The window opened freezes what's closest to it.

Brrrrrr. I forgot.  The faucet is frozen.

Yet, no matter the season,

the eyes of the window bring the world into my home.

Rain, snow, sleet.

The first robins to return.

Only a window?

No, so much more.