It’s now softly blowing and now and then softly raining
not even very cold; but a winter breeze carries its own frosty edge.
It’s walking weather
Here it doesn’t surprise you at all
isn’t unusual for the wind to accelerate into gales, gusts
for the rain to fall swiftly, urgently
It’s walking weather all the same
albeit with an edge
the element of discomfort
a challenge to accept and enfold into the walk
allowing the energy of atmosphere to infuse itself into you
until it becomes yours
you matching the wind and rain
you acknowledging and answering
gusto for gusto, pluck for pluck
respectful determination to claim your place
I live here, too.
Do you wish you were the horse standing in the corral
somehow patiently ceding the wind, enduring it
your back turned toward the wind with your head to the lee?
Do you wish you were the straying dog
glad of freedom, always looking for a post to pee on
oblivious to rain, even of the coat you wear for protection?
Do you wish you were the songbird now huddled in the hold of a pine bough
waiting out the earth’s fervent lecturing
glad of a brief reprieve from scavenging and watching for every sign to fly again?
Well, smile at them and let them go
It’s you that notices after all
who walks here, who breathes your way through;
you all the way home.
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