Where the wild wind is


The wind is a wild thing today. Greedy. Careless. It woke me before light this morning, tearing the last of the leaves from the trees and throwing them at the walls of the house. The weather report tells me there is a hurricane southwest somewhere, stirring everything up.

where the wild wind isIt is later now. I am sitting in my car, parked by the lake, writing. I watch the wind. It’s shoving the surface of the lake, grabbing the waves and throwing them against the shore.

The birds don’t seem to care. They know the wind, and they are ignoring its tantrums. The ducks and loons have moved into the sheltered bay where the water lies calm. They paddle and dive for their breakfast. Chat among themselves about how warm the air feels for an October morning.

The gulls have taken to the air, wings wide. They love this crazy carnival wind. Let it toss them high and higher, then abandon them for other toys. The gulls roll and fall and rise again. I can hear them, and I am sure they are laughing and shouting dares at the wind. Do it again, higher!

I watch the water and the gulls. Hear the wind roar towards and past me. I am up there with the gulls, my wings wide. I love this wild wind. Let it pull at my clothes and my hair. Let it rock my car and toss leaves at my house. Let it throw its wild heart at me, daring me to catch it and pin it to the page with my words.

And so I have, and have not, for there the wind rises again. Whirls round me, laughs in my ear, and is gone.

Let my words be like this wind.  Wild, careless, greedy.  Laughing.  A carnival, rising and rolling.  Pulling and shoving and playing at everything in my life.  Tossing my wild heart high and higher, daring me to throw my wings wide and shout, ”Yes, do it again!  Higher!”

 

 

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