September 18, 2020
Photo by Sandra Delzotti
A Poem by Hilde Oleson
Yes, listen to the wind.
Softly it caresses new born leaves.
It whispers in the ears of humans,
Deaf as the stones to whom it has been speaking long.
So stones, ground down to sand, have much to store
And much to share.
Sand knows the secrets of the water,
Understands how to survive the pounding of angry waves
That form and shape them every day,
As well as cherishes the sweetest lapping moments
When the world is calm.
Wind moves the natal seeds, plants flowers
Where no flowers grew before.
So wind is giving us hints how to live,
If we could only bring ourselves to hear.
It tells us that all things will pass.
That raucous tossing is expected in a storm,
That it will go away,
That there will come a day when we
Will welcome gentle breezes once again
To soothe our ruffled feelings.
It softly lifts a strand of hair to touch the mind below,
As gently as it lifts a feather from the gull.
The gull, who listens constantly, has secrets too.
He would share but is too busy lifting up his wings
To fly above the grounded mortals that we are,
So we must learn to train our minds
To listen to the wind.