The Wind


It is early evening, and the sun is still scorching away. As I work, I hear the kitchen door slam shut. I quickly rush to secure all the other doors, when I hear the tinkling music of my chimes. In all the three years that I have had these chimes, this is probably one of the few occasions when they have actually chimed. Yes, there is only a gentle breeze where I live, hardly any strong wind.

Today is obviously different. A strong wind seems to be blowing. With the sun shining bright, the leaves undulate and glisten as the wind rips through the trees. The bigger and older trees accept the wind’s force with a calm that befits their age and wisdom, while the smaller plants and young trees dance with abandon.

In the yard below, a few leaves are swirling in circles, rising up for a few moments, falling down again, and then rising up again, as the wind comes to play with them.

The tall buildings and construction site cranes are totally oblivious to the wind’s sudden enthusiasm. They watch in silence.

The birds seem more energized as they swoop from tree to tree. Crisp laundry on the neighbours’ clotheslines flutter in bursts. The wind whips my hair on my face. I enjoy this moment….and am reminded of a poem from my primary school days; a poem by Christina Rossetti.

Who has seen the wind?

Courtesy – http://www.pinterest.com

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7 Responses to The Wind

  1. I remember that poem even though I haven’t thought about it for years. Thanks for reminding me!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Erika Kind says:

    I love the touch of the wind, the breeze that feels like a soft caress. But we also have certain heavy storms at times which are not funny at all.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love that poem! Living where I do between the Great Plains and the Rocky Mountains, wind is a far too often companion turning everything to crunchiness. Gentle occasional breezes would be far more welcome.

    Like

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