The waves crescendoing in whitecaps, folding and disappearing into the lake, the smaller waves splashing onto the dock and bouncing off the waterfront rocks, the fresh laundry dancing on the clothesline and the lime-coloured leaves on the tree branches bowing to the left of the window pane. There’s a single thread of a spider web twanging on the window screen, like a taut guitar string being plucked.
It’s the wind that makes it all move… when even the shortest blade of grass shimmies to the shuffle. There are other days when the air is silent and still but when the wind blows off the water, everything responds.
I think the Holy Spirit moves the same way. There’s calm, and then there’s power, movement and refreshment.
I could sit here all day and take it all in. The thought crosses my mind that I want my family and friends to experience this.
When the Son shines and the wind blows, it’s a glorious, show-stopping moment. It changes the way things are.
Who Has Seen the Wind?
BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
Source: The Golden Book of Poetry (1947)