There is nothing better than a windy day.
One that arrives, with
almost, too-much-force.
Disheveling hair.
Opening the door of my soul.
Stealing the sound of my laughter
like a game
of hide and seek.
Whipping around my arms and legs.
Holding space for me to ebb and flow –
Like the seagull held secure in her head-first,
wing-flapping, flight.
Going somewhere and nowhere at the same time.
This is a playful space
to pull and press
worry, hope, and wonder
in and around me.
Refreshing, drawing out, and channeling away,
everything that
keeps me
from
flying.
Copyright September 2020 T.L. Eastman
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