Notes from a Love Letter
The sense of storm has sent critters and beasts into hiding, yet one white-chested swallow with bright blue plumage stands perched on a nearby oak tree to witness the serenity of these abandoned lands, as if gasping one last time for kin [long gone]. He sings short, high-pitched cries into the roaring abyss of winds. Despite his cognizance of coming terror, he exudes an air of confidence. A swelling gust breaks through the trees, drowns his fleeting chirps. They never stood a chance. Fighting to straighten his feathers for flight, he twitches his wings and tail, but in vain. He is swept from his perch, from my sight.
Into my lands nature’s breath sweeps both shrub and trash alike. For existence beyond humanity all things are natural. Neighbors, houses away, exchange shouted words of uncertainty, walking into the security of their homes. I close my eyes and imagine how my new friend is getting on. Sharp pricks of rain strike my brow, sink through pores. My mind opens to the ensemble of life taking place all around me. Above the resounding baritone of muffled shouts and the starting of a car engine, nature’s falsetto emerges. The shrill of the wind cuts through over-story leaves.
I was not aware of it until now, but I am sitting in the concert hall of gods. Sometime ago, I lay in a garden with a woman who exposed through her words and actions the beautiful unshakability and self-existing dignity of the fearless human spirit. How much I long for her now. How much unease has seeped into my mind in these uncertain times. In this storm-induced state of sensual self-consciousness emotions of heart and thoughts of mind unite around a single truth: the life most beautiful is that led fearlessly through storm with the humility and fortitude of the swallow.