In this Moment

Photo by Guillaume Bleyer on Unsplash

I let the wind take away my thoughts. Only the palm fronds moved by Santa Ana breezes remain. Lit by sun, they gently wave back and forth, rocking my mind into a poetic trance.

The wind's fierceness now calmed, no longer gusts raging through valleys, whipping up dust and fire. This spirit of the desert named for the mother of the mother of compassion holds my attention by what it touches. In this moment all is well and yet beneath the surface of this calm, sorrow rests.

The sun is setting and the tree casts its shadow over the terrace just as smog or smoke veil the mountains that were bright in this morning’s sun.  Everything moves or is moved. The morning drifts into evening. The winds die to breezes to stillness.

But right now the wind picks up a little as the air passes over the heated land. There is still life in the world. Life still beats my heart and the wings of mourning doves. Though ashes may ride on the wind from some not so distant fire, though smoke may hide the mountains, the sun will still set and rise. And because of the wind and fires and smoke and ash, the sun will be more beautiful as it slips below the horizon.