It’s summer which means in early morning it’s light enough and warm enough, to write letters to God on the back porch. Today I heard: an airplane overhead, a cardinal back in the woods, an air-conditioner coming on, the dog next dog barking intermittently, a single cicada, which is unusual, and a tapping from the renovation house next door. A rooster that lives at the end of the street continued to yodel long after he had forced the sun to come up. By the time I finished my letter to God, I was able to add a cat’s plaintive meow (the cat begs to move in with the family that lives next door to him), and a car staring up, maybe to go to the beach.
Where are your writing places and what do you hear from there?