Keeper of the Wind

Keeper of the Wind

My tent wrestles with the wind. The only thing holding it in place is me in my sleeping bag. Tent stakes have popped out. Tent poles are threatening to bend. Tent flaps are straight out like banners.

“I know who you are! Stop this right now I say!” I yell into the storm.

The wind stops. A quiet voice speaks to me.

“And who am I? Do you know?”

I am alone, in the mountains, on top of a bald. No one is around me. I checked earlier. I have this campsite to myself.

“Knock it off! Get out of my head.” I go outside, looking for the tent stakes.

“Do you know who stores the wind? Who captures the storms? Do you?”

Now I am getting scared. This storm has rattled me. The devils are playing with me.

“I was with you when you started. I will be with you when you end. I control the air.”

“No one controls the air. The air is…the air!” I stomp back into the tent, into my safe cocoon of a sleeping bag.

“I am a quiet breeze that ruffles your hair, a slight wind that sends the leaves down the street, a tornado that lifts a house, and the hurricane that kills and floods. Are they not controlled? Can they not be turned on and off?”

I scolded the voice.”Now stop. No one is in control.”

“See you soon, Joan. Enjoy the wind.”

“How do you know my name?”

The wind starts to blow, the tent shakes. A giant ponderosa pine loosens in the sandy soil.

W/C 267