Wild Wind-

Updated: May 27


Today the wind goes in every direction almost at once. It feels all anxious and undecided, unsettled.

It doesn't feel angry or bent on retribution for some nameless offense, just confused and indecisive.

What to do? What to do? What should I do next?


Wind, I have no idea.


It gusts, then whistles, then rips at a few things, then stops completely, only to wind itself up again.

Then back into the garden it swoops, singing a low moan while setting off all of the wind chimes and ripping at the roses in my courtyard.



It feels like 'maybe' weather to me.

Maybe I'll be in trouble, maybe not, but I'd better get ready just in case.


I've run about, grabbing the music I was working on as it tried to get away- picking up all of the coffee cups and glasses; bowls of grapes I'd been feeding to the birds, and myself..


That wind-that-doesn't-know-its-purpose has forced me to dismantle my outdoor camp ground on my deck and around my hammock..



It's been fun, living outside in the middle of the city- not the way all of those poor souls do that camp under the overpass. Not the way I've done, when I was young and traveling, trying to survive in sketchy places no children should roam about in.


This has been comfy camping, choosing to be outside in lovely weather, with lemonade and wi-fi, laptop and fountain pen with lovely ink from France sent by my childhood friend who also loves to write.



It made me run for the drill, this wind, and finally screw down the rest of the roof I installed over a year ago, this wind.


Finally, I finished locking down those last few corners that flapped sometimes when I was finally falling to sleep.. so, thank you Wind, I've been needing to get to that.


But then I hear that low moan, and it brings memories of Hurricanes and other storms I've weathered, Betsey, Camille, Katrina, the one whose name I can't remember that took my kitchen ceiling by lifting the roof then dropping it back down before heading off to wherever the wind goes when it sleeps..

When was that? Twenty twelve? Twenty thirteen?


There it goes again!



Ripping at my Banana trees, shredding those leaves I was going to use for steaming Shu Mai dumplings.

It Stops, then starts- then it runs off toward the River, as if intent on getting some job done, but what? What is it?

Perhaps it took off without listening to full instructions from management.

Its always hard when you think you know, then find out, too late, that you actually don't.




I've been observing this Wind for most of the afternoon, and I do think she may be lost. I wish I could help so she'd leave my yard and go rip up something else, maybe in an unpopulated location.

She just doesn't know what she's doing, Poor wind, -and I don't speak wind's language. But then, I don't actually know what I'm doing either.


I do know there's a storm front coming in from somewhere.

It's a strong one, forcing her about.

And a different front has moved into my life, forcing me about.


Times of change are usually tumultuous. No one knows for sure what will happen, what they should do, or how to prepare for things they haven't experienced before.


I could run around like wind, making small messes with unfinished music, ripping pedals off of flowers, knocking over young plants just trying to get a bit of sun, dashing about, worrying about things I can't control.. But no.


I only know to keep doing my best- and to listen for a change in the weather..




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© 2018 Leslie Blackshear Smith