Open Window

by mallory chambliss

Quiet night, full of sound. Hear muffled, shrill vibrations of Summer’s last song. Seasons shift into each other. Hear the depth of God’s voice stirring in dark spaces between sounds. Feel cool air wafting in through the screen, beckoning, “Come to the forest, where bears roam”. Hear the soft, invisible breeze moving into and over the mountain. Weather, or some root of nothingness lost to the moment. Listen quietly. Feel beyond this realm. Summer’s last song resonates with the infinite. Faint perception, distracted by the swaying mind, and its unattendant stretching from space to space. And now rain comes lightly, calmly, and definitively over the mountain, like a wispy, boundless wedding veil.