Sun-warmed legs and wind across my arms. What is it about wind? And how I love it? Feeling the Other—the Beautiful Unseen on my arms. Hair down and it moves. Burnt August air and cedar drifts through nostrils and wipes sun from my skin. Skirts and paper napkins are threatened to life. Stopping to feel the wind is a luxury forgotten by a busy world. “Cherish the wind,” my heart sings.
Stop for the wind for a singing heart.