! In The Steps Of Rumi 87: A Windy Day Poem by Michael Shepherd

Isn’t it a windy day?
The wind gets everywhere,
loves especially to have fun,
enjoys rattling loose doors as if it would come in,
to become a quiet household pet,
or just disappear up the chimney
to meet itself again…

loves corners especially,
piles its toys up in them;
loves robes, veils, laughs, exposing
forbidden body parts;
sweeps the streets clean of plastic bags
then just for fun, blows them around again;

loves especially, laundry on the line –
fills out men’s shirts into dancing fat men;
would wind like to laugh at man?

then from fun play, can get serious –
tests whether that corrugated iron roof
to your makeshift shed is really secure..
later, you may be glad it did...

then from serious to boisterous:
takes on the sea itself, which
likes a bit of fun, but then
gets angry when provoked too much…

then when it’s gone, it’s gone
back to wherever wind comes from…

before it goes, let’s wrap up, take
a laughing walk and tussle with it;
come back, cheeks glowing,
eyes sparkling, laughing,
light-hearted… what did we meet out there?

some say, that wind is really fire,
which stirs our blood like that;
that fire brings life; that life brings spirit;
that spirit is but love; and love,
the breath of gods, of God;
the wind blows where it will.