Another nature poem, before the trauma

Wind

I had sparkles in my hair that dazzling
afternoon we walked amid cottonwoods
and white-barked sycamore, along
a shimmering stream with song sparrows flying
overhead, the majestic Red Cathedral
in Sedona looming above.

Sheltered, we listened to Native American flute
Music, breathed deeply the sounds of energy
Swirling through trees, wind roaring from all sides
like the voice of Spirit. I was reminded
of my late friend Carmen, everywhere and nowhere.

Another wind, a Florida wind on a walk down
open paths is like the soft breath
of angels, a surprise on a humid afternoon.

Change like wind can happen at any time,
sadness can flee, wonder can bring
us back to childhood like a skipping wind.

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