Wilderness Journey, Day 2

Wind In
The movement so strong
    as to sling leaves by like bullets
    as to suck breath asunder
    as to bend the backs of bridges

The pressing so fierce
    as to stutter the storm door
    as to fidget the frantic chime
    as to worry the family dog
      whose ears stand high
      whose eyes grow bold
      whose nose is posed for the passing scent

Into my soul, I pray my Lord, blow.
Into my dank dimness, I pray my Lord, force the fresh fragrance of the Holy.



 

©2012 Judy H. Eurey