February Winds

Sunday morning time for sabbath sacraments. He steps into gusty wind, some fat splatter sweeps of raindrops fall across his porch roof on down through roaring river valley, forceful push, then ebb, February wind storm with fat rain, a wondrous primal pair he adores. Neighbor birds start their liturgical dance and ritual songs of regeneration without him. Already flying quick floating dives into drama time, singing back to Brother Wind howling on his way. Calling, chanting cantors, conjoin swelling sacred anti-gravity songs co-arise blissful sweeping sound, grace filling atmosphere swirls time-rich sacred rites across his house-bound skin. Sound of incense sweeps down his river, north to south with warmer hopes and natural wealth intentions, remind him time for political baptism. She incants from the bathtub in short gusts of heated blast enculturation, conjoining his internal gospel choir, Chirps her oppositional descant challenging and prophesying and occupying in full-voiced roar of need as want right now, and seldom bothers a please, much less a thanks for caring as best he can to hear her appositional rhythms and patterns, irritating flows of hard-blown breath with pearling attitude. Storm and brew birds cheer rage in her brain shouting at co-arising gravity to blow another way within her exegetical universe, Her way, the only way she can imagine to function in a reverse and upside down political world of unheard powerlessness when inside she can only find her loud-voiced demands to turn life around, spin this slippery wind of Earth to blow in her right liturgical way. Baptism completes this wind drenched requiem of full-life as anti-death survival to cooperate this week's regenerate vocational intent and eco-political practice. She joins her dad for one last look through jaundiced droopy eye at drenching rain that could fly back from whence it came if only wiser timed to start this day. Birds now pray their benedictions quietly in wind-protected nests while he listens to swollen postlude protest against eco-agitating time, uprooting old gnarled systems decayed for newer holistic use as compost fades into swaying trees flown back to join upriver's grace of windblown time, and forth to rejoin downstream's centerous roots through winter purging Earth decomposing dance. He closes his door to time's external grace to watch a smile warmly cross her chronic face like a gust of refreshing wind through a rainy karmic life.