Poetry: At My Window by Lisa Lerma Weber

At My Window

Sitting at my window,

watching the leaves shiver

at the gentle caress of the wind,

and I think of the way you kiss

that spot on the back of my neck.

A tiny bird hops from one limber branch

to another, and I remember

when our son’s feet were small

as the bird, hoping in puddles of water,

his laugh like birdsong in our ears.

I look at our yard, watch the overgrown grass

fluttering in the breeze

and I think about the passing of time—

of the years we have spent together,

watching each other grow,

watching our son grow.

I close my eyes and focus

on the warmth of the sunlight,

let it wrap me up in its tender embrace.

I think of the love that fills this house

and there is sunlight in my soul.

Sitting at my window,

I can see everything.