The wind came as the fluid braille of the gods, as if the pulse within, the pattern of the raindrops carried, were a code.
There came a chaotic tidal wind, rushing in and out, an exfoliating wind that brought the cheeks to higher glow.
A dalliance of wind gusted warmly, as if it played the games of dreamy childhood summers.
Wind - eddied, swirled and ambient - lifts my hair into a dance. As I watch the strands at their confluence of tether and vortex, a sense of calmness comes.
Sailboat clouds make good time over an ocean-blue sky, the wind their companion and cheerleader.
Wind waves the tree branches as if in a raucous ballgame celebration.
Let the wind blow and sing its songs to stir the emotions, let it bring the sweet memories of times gone and hopes for a good future ahead. Let the wind remind us that we are here in this present moment, in the gift of living, and call us to adore those whom are close and give their days to us. Let the wind rustle in the trees and sway the grassy wands, moving the fur of a mouse and the hair of a king all the same. Let the wind come as a wall, only to open up and allow us passage through, curling around us as if it were a soft quilt all along. Let the wind speak of adventures and rouse the noble heart into the ways of the hero whom is strong for others and willing to take on the unsurety that comes with helping others. For the wind is all this, confident and flexible, changeable and free.
With the rain came the doors that banged, the wind that wanted nothing more than to announce its arrival, to say, "I'm here." And so it went on, the grass outside flattening in waves that reflected the light and the surface of the river covered in waves as if it were in open water.
The wind blew through the house with a powerful passion, scattering old documents as if they were the leaves of fall and banging the doors as if they were its chaotic drum beat - the marching band of one without fingers or hands.
The wind greets concrete and skin just the same, yet I am blessed to feel it. Its giddy currents flow through woodland canopies, unaware of how its song soothes those who can hear. I have always thought of the wind as so free, chaotic even, yet it too has its path, even if there are infinite possible destinations. It is air with passion, a drive that powers onwards, every direction an option.
I grow strong against this wind; muscles working all the more. It is the freshness over my skin, that which makes a fine flag of my tousled hair. In the trees it is a gusting chorus, a song so confidently sung. There are times I feel it within, that push and swirl, that stirring to show what is solidly there. I'm okay with it; I am. For the calmness of sweet days ahead will be such plain sailing, as easy as summer daydreams.
I have always loved the wind, for it comes to me so boldly, touches my skin. In coldness it rouses me to wakefulness, an alertness that lets me savour the moments in dryness and rain just the same. In soft breezes it is finer than silk, smoother than water. In the gales it sings through the trees, sending loose leaves on a dancing funfair ride, hypnotic, beautiful. In the summertime wind is cooling, allowing the warmth to gently enter muscle and bone while my skin feels so at ease with the world. Today is almost still and I find myself in joyful anticipation, absorbing the bright colours of the new foliage and buds, taking a moment to watch a dragonfly pass by, its back a brilliant electric blue.