Picture of a Windy Morning

How the wind plays across the water in changing patterns, its skittish mood drawn in ripples and rivulets of sparkle under a morning sun. The small boats fidgety at their moorings as if roused by longings of freedom, cormorants riding the unrest on bobbing prows with outstretched wings drying in the wind. See how the day is slowly being assembled, putting itself together with ferry boats and dogs pulling on leads, wired joggers, noisy children in school uniforms crowding at bus stops, workers putting up signs. How it all seems to be following some hidden script. And here I am, again, walking the morning looking for what I lost in the long hours of a sleepless night when it doesn't have a name, being ushered by the wind towards a somewhere or nowhere at all, helped along my shuffling way by a strange sense of unhurried trust that all will be OK.