Oh Wind, That Sings So Loud a Song

My wind chimes serenaded me with sweet and constant melody most of the afternoon. The strong east wind spoke, only a day prematurely, of “March coming in like a lion.” Dry leaves, carefully raked into neat rows only a few days ago, danced with the wind until exhausted, then fell to the ground, scattered in disarray. Early in the day, a sky-watcher would have seen only a few shards of blue peeking through scudding clouds.

As I write this at twilight, the air is still. The clouds have gone, the sky overhead colored with only the ghost of their silver linings. The afternoon's brilliant sun has disappeared from view, leaving behind, on both western and eastern horizons, a fleeting tint of orange surrounded by pale lavender.  I think it's going to be a lovely night.

Not today's sunset, but much like it.

Listening to the wind this afternoon reminded me of one of my favorite childhood poems.

The Wind

Robert Louis Stevenson

I saw you toss the kites on high

And blow the birds about the sky;

And all around I heard you pass,

Like ladies' skirts across the grass

Oh wind, a blowing all day long,

Oh wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,

But always you yourself you hid.

I felt you push, I heard you call,

I could not see yourself at all

Oh wind, a blowing all day long!

Oh wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold,

O blower, are you young or old?

Are you a beast of field and tree,

Or just a stronger child than me?

O wind, a blowing all day long,

O wind, that sings so loud a song!

Tomorrow is also a day.