As I sit by my window watching the numerous varieties of birds known to the Eastern portion of our country, I recall the great poetry of Frost, Browning, and Hemmingway. These poets opened a door inside my brain that I hope will never close and I give thanks to the writings of the past authors. My mind recalls hot summery breezes with the smell of apples or honeysuckles in the air. Freshly fallen leaves that make crispy sounds underfoot and the wind that blew them down, and to hear the echoes of the seabird along the coast at fi ve in the morning. My senses and the seasons combine all thanks to Jehovah God through Jesus Christ our savior for such a fantastic system of growth. We have eyes to see, ears to hear, keys to enable speech, a heart of love and a brain to control thoughts of what has been and handle what will be. Then I feel ecstasy as my pen rises to continue these works of an art given to me by my ancestry. My hope in life is to touch a few hearts and maybe help my future writers to grow as these fine people have contributed to my growth.