A Trilogy for the Wind

Early morning on the back porch with a cup of coffee and my journal lead to a fresh batch of poems . . .

The Whispering Wind

Thank you Lord for the wind, the breezes that

Produce singing in the leaves and branches

And carry the song of the birds to distant

Pockets of space where the sweet echoes

Enliven ants, caterpillars,

Tiny mice, bees, and me.

The breeze stirs up life--

It doesn't have a plan or a care;

It just is and playfully, daringly
Follows the Sprite of the Thermals,
Gently, briskly, swirling, wafting.
The wind has a joy, a confidence
That I, too, long to possess--
An unafraid approach to the day that yields to
The tosses and twists of the Spirit's breath.

Lord, make me like the wind,
Brushing all with a soft playfulness and
Kiss of joy in being alive,
Freely moving, kindly stiring it up.
Make me strong enough to be a savored presence
Without causing unexpected bowling over.
In places where just a feathered,
Whispered presence is needed,
Allow me to dance on tiptoe,
Unnoticed, but present--
A vehicle of your Breath and
Ever-caring, ever-surrounding
Presence in the world.


Morning Ride

The wind is picking up
Gusting, making a fuss
As it causes branches decked out in
Bright green spring leaves
To flex and bend and
Spring back to default position
Without snapping,
Strengthened by the
Lively exercise beneath
A shining morning sun.

A purple finch alights
And joins a slender stem's ride,
A hint of a twinkle in his tiny eye,
His little bird feet firm in friendly grip,
A choreagraphy of life outside my window.


The Slow Movement

Only the terminal leaves flutter now
As the wind symphony finds its
Adagio in the spaces between dawn
And early morning coffee.

Watching the play of light, wind, and leaf
Transforms my fresh-from-sleep eyes
Into saucers of child-like wonder
At God's movment across the birthing horizon
Of a newborn day.

Go with me Muse-of-the-morning
Infusing Next Things with your
Vibrancy for living and
Perception of God's presence
In time's movement
Into the blossoming hours of Today.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Grieg's MORNING SONG

. . . and here in a lovely Flash Mob from Copenhagen