My Dirty Windows

Photo: (c) Jamie K.  Reaser

Someday you might visit. So, I need to tell you

this: I keep my windows dirty. I’m not a bad

housekeeper. My mother was. And, she’d say so.

I like the birds and feed them because I’ve heard

that you should feed the holy, and also because

it makes me happy to see them so delighted.

They are. You can tell. They have their ways of

expression, as I have mine. Though I’ll admit, theirs

are much better.

But, sometimes birds see things that aren’t there

and make bad choices based on these illusions.

Head first they go, hard, often.  The window

pane is not a forest, not the sky, not another set

of feeders full of tidbits to gleefully chip and

fluff about. But when the lighting is just so, they

don’t get this. Sadly. No.

Have you ever held one that hit and fell, lifeless?

The spirit goes out of winged ones fast. I suppose

that is because they already know how to fly. Or,

they already know which angels to call by name. Or,

they become angels. These are some possibilities.

So, do you now understand the smears and splotches?

Maybe. Likely not. I say this kindly. I’ll explain.

My windows are dirty so that I will remember to be

thoughtful, discerning. I’ve seen a lot of things in my

life. Some of them, I later found out, weren’t what

I believed them to be.  

© 2014-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Published by Talking Waters Press

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