Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Gusts Out of the Blue Bringing Improbable Thunderheads

I was listening to the trickster winds, gusting and swirling dry dirt and dust, hoping for intuitive news of two childhood companions, who had became scarcer over the years, beginning when we parted to go contrary ways many autumns ago. Rumor suggested they may have ended up in harm's way this stormy season of extremes.

I heard many messages, in the roars and whispers of the day's winds of change, that came rushing over the grasses and ripping though the trees - more like play than fury. The quieter spirits came next, skipping along after - and then a team of darkening thunderheads rumbled towards me from a distant power place. Were any of these sounds and events an encouraging word?

I lingered on this weathered scene in calm confusion until shrill bird cries shifted my attention, once again: A red tailed hawk was winging and gliding over me and the windblown fields, soaring and diving, zig zagging persitently towards the approaching storm. One of the biggest crows I have ever seen, dipped and swooped in pursuit of the sky journeying hawk. This acrobatic show kept me entertained, even while hawk and crow - what an odd couple - receded towards the purple tinted hills and indigo shadowed clouds.

At last, I began meandering homeward, dreaming and knowing those elder companions still were somewhere on this earth, playing tricks and making fun, in gleeful defiance of any strong odds against it. My heart warmed up as I returned step by step, considering this new probability, while the winds blew colder and wilder each moment.

(I journeyed with Spirit and the Spirits, to help bring dreams of new possibilites for anyone facing winds of change and suffering loss.)


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