I'm sitting here, listening to birds outside my window. The sunlight throws a checkerboard pattern against the sheer curtains, and my spiderwort's dripping with indigo blooms. In short, it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
It's hard to believe that many folks in my neighboring counties, in my neighboring states, aren't having such a beautiful day. The birds might be singing, but their notes may be closer to songs of distress at finding their treetop homes gone. The sun still shines through plaid shirts flapping from torn-in-two power line poles. And it always amazes me to see a flower bed, bursting with reds, blues and yellows, perfectly intact ten yards from a flattened house.
Nature is beautiful yet oh, so powerful, and my heart and prayers go out to all those affected by the recent tornadoes. I'm sure there are many stories, and perhaps one of these tales or essays will be told for the Whispering Prairie Press Writing Awards.
They're looking for poetry, flash fiction, and essays, and the entry fee is $5.00. Deadline's June 30, 2011. Maybe by then, it will be a beautiful day in the neighborhood for us all.
