Oh, how the breeze places movement gently upon the wheat in the field of plenty. The soft breath of the wind takes its stretching top, heavy with grain, and gently rocks. Rivers of dazzling dark and light golden color burst forth like a river bounding with fish swimming in timeless schools of laughter.
Talk to me sweet nature as the earth warms in the sun, capturing vitality, holding on to provisions brought forth to nourish life. Your song mesmerizing the sky itself as your milky white clouds dance in a pattern worthy of adoration. Birds fill the space in between with flights of joy along with a great mantra.
Oh, wind, why do you take me into your arms? Like a new-born, I ride within the moment seizing this your gift of vivacity, which you offer up like sweet syrup. Hands unfolding your generosity is aromatic, like the honeysuckle, which grows wildly upon this earth — unleashing your honesty like a son talking to his father’s resting place.
Surround me with clapping trees nearby your neighboring fields. Dress me in their reddish leaves, and I shall sprout roots and draw myself into the fertile black soil. My glorious expansion will pass the grubs and furry creatures as they tickle my newfound growth. As I shall bathe in the glories of mother earth and whisper songs to her, as she sings God’s Holy promises.
by Joni Caggiano 01/25/20