the wind
last night
sang
low, cold and thin
i couldn't help listening
as the wordless sounds
found their way through
the cracked glass of the window,
across the softness
of the bed
and into my ears.
dulled with sleep
i heard the words
as wishes
"release me"
as winter comes,
the sound
from the valley stream stops,
and a wind from the mountain
visits my window.
25 comments:
low, cold and thin...i like what this conjures inside me.
you are a blessed spirit,
much love
This post reminded me of when I walked by the marina after a big storm and the wind seemed to be the calls of those who had survived the battle of the elements, and the ropes played the most haunting chimes against the masts...I had walked for miles to hear it and when I got home I discovered I was pregnant with my son...magical..
Zounds! I can hear "release me" quite often myself! It's almost worth not replacing the glass! Lovely, Steven. Peace, my friend.
Oh, and I just saw your Rothko quote. You MUST, if you have not already, visit the Rothko chapel in Houston one day. It's otherworldly.
Your haunting winter wind gives a strange form of comfort through your words and the shimmering wheat under leaden skies. Thanks, Steven.
Your haunting winter wind gives a strange form of comfort through your words and the shimmering wheat under leaden skies. Thanks, Steven.
The last two posts have been lovely, lovely, in both word and imagery. The wind simply wanted to warm up by the fire...
stacey j. i recall a friend from yorkshire in england describing a wind such as last nights as "a lazy wind. it'd as soon go through you as 'round you." last nights wind had something else about it as well - something soft and present. not sad but mournful. have a lovely warm day! steven
rachel - among my most cherished memories are the sounds of rigging on small boat masts. your memory conjures up some of the places i've experienced that. the air carries stories and songs. it has passed through so many people for all of history. steven
kathleen - i empathized with the wind, oh yes i did. thanks for pointing me towards the rothko chapel. i didn't know about it and so it's in my notebook to look up!!! have a peaceful day. steven
hello elsiabeth - i came across these wild grasses in a valley not far from here. amazingly they withstand all of winter's blasts and snows and rains and whatever else. the presence of the wind - well i love it no matter what it is doing but the sounds it makes in the late night are strangely comforting. steven
pauline thankyou very much and i am glad that you have enjoyed them. despite winter's bare and icy demanour it's a fruitful time in terms of awareness for me. steven
It is a time to refresh. It is like putting on perfume for the first date. Winter is a wonderland for Spring.
Of all the elements, the wind is the most haunting.
And the only one that seems to speak.
I am sitting here in tears because I just finished reading Dan' post about Walter. How appropriate to come over here and find your words "release me."
Beautiful.
Thank you, Steven!
The ocean's waters can speak, too. Beautiful, Steven.
Nice poem! I like the wind and its sound around me.Thanks.
Out in the country surrounded by agricultural fields, there is nothing to block the wind. Cold in the winter but welcome in the summer.
It's the voice of deep winter. But the wheel is turning. spring will come again. And you'll be on your bike, riding next to the river.
For now, snuggle up!
The force of the wind scattered our thoughts,made us cranky, picked us up and slammed us into objects, hard- I could lean my back against the wind with my coat open and elevate...growing up in 80 mile an hour winds on the high plains might have tempered me but I could not wait to get out of there! I agree, the only time the wind is of some comfort is sleeping snuggly ,rigging slapping reasuringly, anchored well and securely, on a sailboat knowing that it will power you back to the harbour when needed.
Lovely juxtaposition of the amber and the deep gray.
Late at night when the wind picks up the windows shake and expand with the pressure. I always fear they'll explode in millions of pieces. I love listening to it, although I bring the kids into my bed, just in case.
It makes me think of Wuthering Heights! (very atmospheric; perhaps this is why Sting says that winter is the season for imagination?)
Release me. Wonderful. I sat with my friend, Walter, for almost an hour, chanting quietly with another friend who happened to be there, too.
Walter's not quite journeyed across yet, but, like the wind in your night bedroom, he's gone most of the way.
Your wind must be in cahoots with Inglebert Humperdink....
"Please release me let me go..."
Happy days
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