Wind ~ ~ ~ Poem by Tara Crown

The wind in the bending pines
flushes my thoughts
and clears my mind.
Sitting on this Earth-body
my body bends like
a blade of grass.
And a blade of grass has
no thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow.
Just the sun on my face,
just the sky in it's perfect grace,
this time, this moment, my perfect place.
When black-feathered Raven casts
down his shadow for me, his
spread wings simply mould and bend
in perfect form with the wind.
Lifting up, now down, like
a rogue thought in my mind, his flight
merely a gust, a chance whim
breezing through time.
Now like a tree without roots
I can outstretch my limbs
and so freely, without question
I again bend back and forth in the wind.
A tree will not carry sorrow
in it's branches, no, the wind
will take the blooms and the tears.
She will wipe clean this wooden body
of dead leaves and dead fears.
No sounds here now but this lovely wind-song,
that lifts my cares and blows them along.
With the leaves and the birds
and the clouds in the day,
I watch my worries being carried away.
Here, with the wind, is where my spirit is found.
And here, with found wind spirit,
is where I wish to stay.