When the Wind Blows

When the wind blows, I mean really blows, trees are sent through the shredder.  Massive and stately old oaks are snapped like carrots, crushing smaller more supple saplings as they plummet. Lines of arboreal inheritance are upended when the wind blows.

When the wind blows, it blurs the line between land and water. It furrows the worried beach's brow.

When the wind blows, it is like watching a raucous cabaret that's too outrageous to understand.

​When the wind blows, seemingly sturdy objects are flung about like toys of a spoilt child.

When the wind blows, an attempt to rescue an unsecured item can feel like summiting Everest.

When the wind blows, windows shudder in fear and doors groan with worry and weariness.
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When the wind blows, nature reminds us of her might and the daily forbearance that usually shields us.

When the wind blows, we curl up in a quiet place and hope for clemency-- to be spared nature’s wrath.

When the wind blows, it rattles our mental cupboard and shakes our confidence off the shelf.

When the wind blows, we understand humility and fragility in a visceral way. It teaches us respect and gratitude….. and wonder

And when the wind stops, we skitter about like unleashed schoolchildren glibly ignoring  the fact that the wind will blow again.
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