I sit in the chill sun of a day struggling to warm itself after a sudden spring storm. The storm came bringing a heavy, sodden, blanket of snow. Today it is gone as the sun fights for dominance. In the shadows of the budding trees, little mounds of gleaming white lie nestled in the fresh new grass.
There is a tension, a thrill in the air. I am drawn away from my day, caught in the battle of weather currents swirling around me. The wind whispers, moans as it rushes through the thickly treed hills. I wonder, would the wind have a voice without the trees? Together they commune in a sibilant rush that speaks to my soul in words I do not know, but long to understand. I hear a gust from afar..racing to join in the whisper of wind that lifts the tendrils of my hair. It draws closer, first only a sound, now a stirring in the trees, growing louder, more compelling. My own breath stills, my heart quickens, I wonder at the current that I cannot see until it roars above me...twisting, swaying, bending and cracking the branches of the stately trees. I am caught, breathless, wondering, do the trees weep as I do, quickened by the power that moves them, and yet they cannot see?
