The Writing Window

Walden got a pond. I got a window. Since 1994. I've sat next to a window before the sun rises to do nothing more than write. I'm not sure where and why this window became my reasons for creating a conversation. Laughing I say its God looking from the sky on my poor penmanship. Then I get serious when a deer walks up to the writing area and seems to be speaking. I take note of a bright red cardinal. I see the limbs preparing for a change in weather. Life has its share of windows. Which one are you looking through?