Sitting in my rocker I am provided a 3 X6 view of the world. Constantly rocking back and forth to time with a grandfather’s clock, my view of the world is a constant movement of life, while other times, quiet and inert.  I find it interesting that my perspective changes with the influences outside my window.
I have seen the creation of life as a family of wrens had nurtured their young. I rejoiced as each one flew from their home for the first time, while parents gleefully sung and encouraged each one to enter into this world.
I have seen death with the local hunting dogs chasing rabbits across the field. Only to see their limp carcasses returning back in the dog’s mouth. Slobbery furred rodents with eyes so empty and hollow; no essence of spirit remains for our wooly friend.
I have seen the beauty as a deer slowly walks, with such grace and fortitude, across my yard, and then leaping like a ballerina over the rail fence.
I have seen the hunger as the black bear comes down into my valley to scavenge for garbage and bird seed from the feeders, leaving with starvation still on their minds.
Then there are the small forms of life that are barely noticed. A butterfly of blues, a humming bird of speed, and tiger-lilies that sway in the breeze. All vibrant in color and I scarcely glance upon them.
But what of the other seasons, the snow on the ground, the heat beating on my doors, or the colors of the rainbow while the mums artistically display their gold, yellows, and oranges?
There is so much beauty to see through my window, my own portal to the world, and I have only described one brief moment, a glance that could change within a millisecond.
Be careful with your life and rejoice for what you possess. The world as you it know may change in a blink. I have not begun to discover what lies beyond my portal; I dream of larger and more beautiful landscapes than my mind can imagine.
Appreciate your time that you have. Cherish all forms of life because within a flicker of an eye, it may no longer exist.
**As I said, just the ramblings of an old woman, thinking, and swaying in her rocking chair, keeping beat to a grandfather's clock.***