The wind’s message

There is a tall pear tree outside the south western windows of my apartment. It has beautiful white flowers in early April and rich green leaves by the first of May. It sways in light breeze and crashes against my window panes with big gusts of wind. The branches make a knocking sound on the glass as though the tree wants to come in.

I watched the pear tree, while it danced in a light breeze this morning. I was reading N. Scott Momady’s book Earth Keeper and felt inspired to wonder about the wind.

I rode on horseback to the west, to the red labyrinth. There were hawks overhead turning narrowly down, then soaring up and far away, and in their own time returning. All afternoon they regarded me. Then, when the shadows grew long I entered the labyrinth, and the cliffs leaned over me. From the darkness within, a gust of cold wind came loud and bolting, and I was nearly thrown to the ground. It was not the wind of the plain, but something of the labyrinth itself, essential and deep, without definition or a name. I rode out into the cauldron of the late night and searched the sky for the hawks, but they were no longer there. I felt that I had been to the center of the earth, to the house of Genesis.

- N. Scott Momaday

The Wind

What does the wind bring?

Why does she come so strong each Spring?

Sometimes she is a whisper

other times a forceful blow.

I see her presence in the dancing leaves,

in the swaying branches and the rocking trees.

She swirls petals on the ground

and lifts grains of sand into a floating mist.

I’ve fought the wind,

pushed against her,

felt exhausted by her,

and thought she was a nuisance.

But now I wonder what does she have to say?

What is she so insistent about ushering along?

What is her message?

Perhaps, to allow things to pass through, continue, let go, release, and bridge the seasons in life.