The Sun Came Out (Briefly) Today

while I was working, wind still racing. Too late for ode hunting, but not too late for reflection during my work break.

Big Wind Coming

and it sings.

Where Wind Paints

light on water

And The Dogwood Burned Fuschia

Overnight almost every pine needle on almost every pine tree browned and wind-whipped almost every pine needle flew off almost every pine tree and blew and swirled and each and every one plastered the leaf-labeled ground and almost every pine needle from almost every pine tree glowed amber and brown on wet wood and emerald grass and yellow, red, and orange leaf. 

A Plea to the One in Charge

Dear Madam or Sir:

For an all-too-brief moment today, I thought Sewanee might enjoy an accumulation of snow. The wind blustered the butterfly sculpture in front of Locals, whirling and swirling it, and flakes hurled themselves down University Avenue with the kind of enthusiastic abandon I've seen in The Nutcracker.

But then it stopped. And the sun came out. And we are left with cold. Bitter dregs of a winter wonderland that I am still awaiting.

Please. Can't you do something?

With great hope, I am, respectfully yours,
A Fan.

Slipstream

Everything today -- air, water, leaves, trees, minutes, hours -- flew, flapping and slapping, slipping me back to what I miss most about childhood: time's endlessness that promised miracles each day I awoke and ended with a father's bedtime story.

The wind's tale promises no sweet dreams.

Wind on Water on Leaves

Henry David Thoreau wrote, "On land only the grass and trees wave, but the water itself is rippled by the wind."

To which I would add this: wind-waved water ripples the wind-waved leaves.

Wind on the Hill

No one can tell me,
No one knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.

It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes . . .
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.

A. A. Milne from The Complete Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh