welcome Laura, poetess from The Wellspring, whose every post makes me turn into a child and long for beauty…
The spring winds blow through, making the trees dance and brand new blossoms fly from bending branches. I see him standing in the bay–this child of mine whose heart has been churning these past few days. His eyes are fixed on swaying limbs.
And then he is out there, face lifted to the wind. I see his heart soar up to the top of the pear tree, and sway down to kiss the earth. He stands in a shower of petals–arms out, riding the breeze. And when he is done flying, he sits on the porch—alone. I watch from the window—see that pensive brow. He is listening.
I restrain myself from joining him, for he is hearing what I heard as a young girl. And I know–this is for his ears alone. He returns to my arms and we watch the dance of the trees together.
“Sometimes, the wind sounds like…music.”
Oh, how my heart smiles.
“Yes, it does. I wonder what song it is singing?”
He ponders this but does not respond. And then he is off, slips out of my arms and up the stairs—on to the next thing.
My arms feel empty and I wrap them around the trunk of me—sway back and forth with my tree-sisters. I close my eyes. Branches sway, bodies bend. I hear the music.
And this is my song, for how often do I feel this way, bending and waving in the winds of life? Sometimes losing my frilly frock in the storms, sometimes kissing life like tender breath. I’ve never seen the beauty of this dance until this very moment, too often I am afraid of breaking.
I am this tree. The winds lift me high and swing me down low. I ride this breeze, fearfully, joyfully…This is the dance of life.
note from e: home now… spending time hugging my son… will be catching up with your beautiful prose later on this weekend (thank you, friends… for joining me in this imperfect community)