The Howling Wind
The howling wind woke me early from my sleep. When I’m drowsy and hovering between falling back asleep or being wide awake I weirdly find myself in a stupor of thoughts. Somewhere in my dreams where disconnected ideas seem perfectly reasonable.
While it’s dark outside, a small section of the blind is up and I can peer through the gap to see the dawning world. The leaves are swaying to the rhythm of the wind. Small branches are over backwards. The plump olive trees are shedding their fruit onto the lawn. There’s something majestic about wind. I almost hear it talking. It’s whispering sweet nothings, lulling me back to sleep. But it’s not enough and I am beginning to emerge from my slumber. I think about the restorative effects of rain during the winter. How a dormant cycle allows vegetation to recover. But what is it about wind? Is it the transportation system of seeds and small animals? What makes nature so powerful and makes me feel so small is the inability to control it. A small windstorm morphs into a tornado….torrential downpours begin as a rainstorm…and those flurries…nature’s beauty can also be destructive.
So as I lay in bed, a sliver of light has begun shining through my window. I know the sun is about to rise and I probably am now up for the day. The wind will continue to gust…the seasons will continue to change…the clock will chug on….the days will dawn and night will fall… And I hope that we continue to share this journey.
