a wind it is said is
the manifestation of the Tao
it is everywhere and nowhere
it is visible only in how the world responds
in itself, it is of no substance
it is noticeable in its’ absence and its’ presence
You cannot hide from the wind
nor leave well enough alone
unless you box yourself in
bury emotion deep to the bone
Tree limbs creak and stretch in the wind like
old dry arthritic bones waiting for the moment to snap
then, not a stir nor a whisper,
the willow weeps in silence
nothing moves when the wind lies down
then the rustle of air
that hustles from tree to tree
bush to bush, leaving a wake of
momentary silence in its path,
a precursor, of what’s to come.
everything not tied down shivers
Leaving nothing behind fills the present moment
no room for the unknown
nothing to interfere with the past-future continuum,
the safe zone, protected from the winds of change.
wind, what is it really?
a breath of fresh air?
can you taste it, smell it, touch it,
hold it in your hand?
can you capture it, hold it down,
change its direction, chase it down?
can you see it
other than a response to its presence?
Ah, but you can hear it
you can feel it
with the wind in your face
you know you are alive
Inside where it is warm and of comfort,
enjoy a mindless moment.
Listen to the music of wind chimes,
and the branches of the apple tree tapping on the windowpane.
birds dance in the wind
circle, hover, dip and dive
in the wind they thrive
they play it
wind moves water
When the wind stops, not a breeze,
not a whisper of thought.
Silence is the songbird
harmonizing with the soul
it is the sound that carries with it
the in-between before and beyond
wherever it comes from
wherever it goes
it always runs; hot, cold, brisk and bold
soft, sensuous, subtle, uncontrolled
yet consistent with this whirling dervish we stand down on
the wind swipes upon it ever eastward
scurrying in front of a tailwind in search of dawn
there is nothing that stands in its way
in its path everything bends and bows
wind is change
for nothing stays the same
once the wind passes through
wind the invisible hand of sunlight, the spirit of motion
scrambling from the sea, over the mountains,
across the deserts and into the plains
an unseen force affecting the motion of life
the wind can roar like a train passing
through the brain, or whisper
like a fat cat purring in the sun.
it can blow the seeds of discord and conflict,
or in a cool breeze,
on a hot day,
carry with it
the promise of rain