When wind rushes across this snow-swept valley,
step outside and turn your face to the blast.
Raise your arms and stand stolid in the face of nature’s power.
Watch white horses of snow roll across the meadow,
and snow devils pirouette over the open expanse.
See the trees bough and dance as though listening
to Vivaldi’s “ Four Seasons.”
Listen to the roaring gusts sweep down the mountain valleys,
the bellow emanating from deep in Mother Natures lungs.
The crack of boughs breaking,
wind whistling through holes, the ghosts of gales from another era.
Breathe deeply of the crisp air, the scent of snow and clouds forming in the west,
the air is clean, gone the acrid scent of pollution.
The wind has taken it on a ferocious ride eastward,
leaving pure air in its wake.
Snow drifts form like swirls of icing on a cake,
appearing to breathe as the surface rises and falls gently.
The gusto of God’s breath resting as though in sleep.
Fear not the wind, it is our friend.
Accept it into your soul and allow its purity to cleanse your organs.
For all too soon, the stillness of summer will swell and stifle,
and only the memory of the wind may save you from suffocating.
~ Roxy Whalley ~ Nomad for Nature