Air & Memory

Following you, the breeze lifted the bottom of your curls, suspending the hair in a dance around your head. Wind playing the tendrils like my fingers did hours ago against the soft cushion of pillows cradling you.

The wind rises up with the scent of the sea,  wild honeysuckle, eucalyptus, the green of spring.  Memories,stored in brain cells related to senses, secure this meditative ambling as a moment of aromas – hoping it is with you still, inside this damaged head, in this still body.

Sea grass quivers, quakes. Trees creak in warming wind. A red-tail hawk cries hunting the bluffs in slow circles. Movement everywhere enabled by the strength of the wind. I imagine your limbs rising, your body swaying, eyes lifting to watch where the hawk flies.

The sand, warm on the surface, cool as our footsteps churn the wetter layer beneath. The sunlight brings out my freckles. The wind cools the burn on the skin. Promises inscribed in driftwood set out to sea, carrying our intentions to the whole world touched by water.

All the senses are singing, blood quickens, breath draws deep into the lungs. The body is whole, invigorated by all that is today; all that is seen, all that is felt, all that is heard, all that is sense, all that is air. I am with you. I am here. I am memory.

The Power of the Wind

A windy spring day.
Windows and doors are open.
Large books prop open the doors,
Light airy objects that will blow away weighted down.
The wind whips the curtains through the air
alternately sucking them up snug against windowscreens.
I sit in my soft chair reading my book on light and color
while the wind blows my hair in spirals around my face.
The wind brings the fragrant scent of the magnolia tree
into every crevice of my home.
It cools this hot skin from
time spent in the morning sun.
It billows the edges of my blouse caressing me.
And the sound….is a storm without rain
but with force and fury
that makes me feel alive,
that stirs up every desire
and dilates my eyes wide and dark
to draw you in when you struggle through the door, fighting the wind.

for Phoebe, remembering a conversation