The Window

The Window

To the Tree outside my window. Thank you for growing with me.

By Jessica McClendon (2018)


I sat at my window for a year and I watched you

I watched as you puffed your chest


Grew thirsty



When your beauty became tired and the color began to drain from your surfaces and the creatures no longer desired to dance in the sweet smell of your presence

I stayed connected to you

The pallor of Death fell outside the window and covered your face. You surrendered completely

The sky wept on you and when it all seemed too hard to bear, the North blew hard and froze you cold

But I still sat at my window everyday and we watched each other

I had grown used to you.

You expected me.

I pondered life while staring into your naked, regal face

Found peace




When it seemed you had nothing to offer – when you were your coldest and most desolate – your still surrender and dignified constance saved me.

I loved you like that.

I came to my window this morning to look at you

You are beautiful today. The sun is out. The sky cried and then dried its tears.

The North has sucked back its icy breath and held it with tightly closed lips. The South puffs gently.




Plump with joy

I love you like this.

I hope when I leave this window, whoever takes my place won’t face inward into the darkened room, but will look out at you. You mustn’t try too hard try to catch their gaze, they must want to see you.

I hope they see what a miracle you are and if they are willing, you must show them how to heal, how to live, how to let go, how to be





I hope they love you.