Outside my window,
there is no moon.
Through midnight’s murky darkness,
the branches twist and turn,
sharing their whisperings,
rousing me from the very depths
I hear voices.
There’s somebody out there.
The leaves are rustling,
whispering their precious secrets.
or perhaps it’s just
some silly shopping list.
Yet, in the wind,
their chattering sounds serious.
Forgetting all about the leaves,
I can not sleep.
I can not sleep a wink.
The shadows are growing
larger and larger.
Infused with evil,
they’re haunting and tormenting me.
Drawing closer and closer,
they’re now whispering in my ear:
“We’ve got you now!”
Their putrid, rotting breaths
sticking to my skin like toxic slime
I can not peel off.
On the very brink of death,
diving into Mummy and Daddy’s bed.
An impenetrable fort
immune from all beasts.
I am safe at last.
The beast deflates.
It was all just branches
dancing in the wind,
brushing against my window pane…
Our son had to write a poem for English at school…”Through My Window”. He’s about to turn 12 and is in his first month of High School. As much I have been thinking about this exercise to try and help him, I also appreciated the topic myself. It was an excellent writing prompt.
There are so many different perspectives he could pursue. I know he actually loves going to sleep with the curtains open so he can watch the sunset but when he was younger and the wind was blowing through the tree out the front, he would think someone was out there and get scared…a natural reaction for young kids. I still get scared myself in big storms when all sorts of things go bump and thump in the wind and the house feels like its about to fly of to the Land of Oz.
There is a fig tree growing outside his window. It’s an overgrown pot plant the kids call their climbing tree. They have shared occupancy with a succession of native pigeons who have nested there. A few years ago when the kids were about 6 and 4 they ran inside each carrying a baby bird saying they needed to look after them. I promptly told them that’s what the birds had parents for. Obviously birds can’t look after their own young…!
For two days, we were feeding those baby birds while trying to re-home them with their parents. While it was kind of fun and an experience we’ll never forget, I was so stressed trying to make sure those baby birds didn’t die and somehow made it back to Mum and Dad. We even stuck their flimsy nest in an ice cream container when we put it back in the tree. I remember waiting and waiting for any sign of their parents and listening out for their “coo”. It really was incredibly stressful.
Eventually, our story had a happy ending, although it seemed to take forever. Here’s the full story here:
Pigeons still nest in that tree and you can see the parents nesting through our son’s bedroom window.