listening to the wind
As the wind blows softly across the landscape, melodies of sounds explode around me. The more I listen, the greater the orchestra. First a hollow wisp that I feel passing over my auricles. The distant leaves clap and pause. Long reeds whip and wave like a salsa dancer's gown flowing with her quick motions.
Suddenly all comes to a halt just to be heard anew. When I shut my eyes, I can spatially pinpoint where I am located next to my surroundings just based on the noise the wind brings blowing on close by (and far away) objects.
The red-tailed hawk flies in the distance. I can imagine the snap of it's wings as it circles relentlessly soaring with the wind at it's back.
Sound stops but movement continues. A sound means harsh commotion in the landscape, but in silence, the violent arguments turns to the whisper of a lullaby. Although sound in this form personifies anger, I would rather have rich emotion than to be encircled with a polite whisper. Whispers have their place; rage brings excitement to my every emotions.
Wind demands respect, it does not ask politely. It can be as destructive as it is essential. Growing up in Minnesota, I saw the fantastic displays of tornados brewing in the sky. I have seen the vast destructive nature brought leaving houses torn inside out. I saw the desperation in people’s eyes knowing that this weather pattern left them with nothing. Pain comes when you least expect. How does one take out anger towards the wind?
Suddenly all comes to a halt just to be heard anew. When I shut my eyes, I can spatially pinpoint where I am located next to my surroundings just based on the noise the wind brings blowing on close by (and far away) objects.
The red-tailed hawk flies in the distance. I can imagine the snap of it's wings as it circles relentlessly soaring with the wind at it's back.
Sound stops but movement continues. A sound means harsh commotion in the landscape, but in silence, the violent arguments turns to the whisper of a lullaby. Although sound in this form personifies anger, I would rather have rich emotion than to be encircled with a polite whisper. Whispers have their place; rage brings excitement to my every emotions.
Wind demands respect, it does not ask politely. It can be as destructive as it is essential. Growing up in Minnesota, I saw the fantastic displays of tornados brewing in the sky. I have seen the vast destructive nature brought leaving houses torn inside out. I saw the desperation in people’s eyes knowing that this weather pattern left them with nothing. Pain comes when you least expect. How does one take out anger towards the wind?
posted by ruthie at 11:00 PM
1 Comments:
this is a very appropriate title and topic for your first entry, setting the idea of the whole journal. I appreciate the increasing concreteness and vividness of description in later entries.
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