Wind I Know

July 14, 2012 § 2 Comments

Credit: “Summer Wind”

This is a wind I know.

I’m sitting on a shady patch of grass in front of my place of work, and when I close my eyes the cars continually rushing back and forth down the highway sound like massive gusts of wind that never settle.

There’s a breeze too, a natural one, not man made, and it’s dancing lightly across my face. And I recognize it. It’s a breeze I’ve felt through an open window on a dark, dark summer night, when the trees were creaking into sleep and the birds were chirping for their young ones, their loved ones, for the end of an evening. A breeze I felt when I was standing in the overgrown and weedy expanse of my backyard as a child, watching my little orange dress flutter back and forth, back and forth. By the beach by myself on an overcast day, with the water rippling down below me, the sun peeking out meekly, my curls falling over my shoulders.

It’s magic, this breeze. I know it. Know it, like a long-lost friend you bump into at some odd place, like a strip mall or a farmer’s market. It’s not just the product of a forever-spinning Earth. No ordinary gust of wind. Because when I feel it, I feel history, I feel age-old times and dancing, electrified spirits buzzing with life. I feel a whisper. Feel it in the hairs on the back of my neck. I’m not quite sure what it says, but it whispers.

And I listen, while the cars try to drown me out, rushing, rushing.

While the spirits shake my curls.


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