Opened Curtains

The windows were hidden behind their curtains. I had been up since two in the morning, like Jacob, wrestling with an angel, demanding to know its name. I heard a whisper to feed the birds. Opening the curtain, covering the glass door leading to the deck, the morning burst before me dismantling the curtains covering my eyes. 


I stood frozen. I heard another whisper and grabbed my camera. It is an image of sunrise. An image of fire. The fierce blush of the kiss between sun and moon. A wake up call with no snooze. Pouring the seed in the feeder I watched the fire smolder and evaporate. A bird landed not a foot from me and a squirrel poked his head out of a tree just a foot or two from me. I inquired whether they had seen the beautiful sunrise and smiled as I turned to go back into the house. 


Another whisper and I turned around to see them eating. They looked up and I acknowledged my rudeness in not letting them speak. And the whisper returned, as the tiny creatures returned to their buffet, it matters not the seeing, it is in the giving and feeding that hope is born.