This is the windTo be in bed with
Snug beneath
The piles of eiderdown
Memories
Times of innocent
Music
Walking lightly
On the earth
This is the wind
Rushing down
The ancient chimney
Like Pentecost
Dancing on the fire
Of lively flame
Unruly smoke
Reminding us to be
More playful
It feels like a scene From a movie
Drinking tea From china cupsAmong the exoticIn a faded place
The air hot and heavyThe smell of sulphurEverywhere
A terrible tormentaSpanish for stormIs raging
Unleashing hail
The blackest skyApocalyptic
Uprooting ancientTrees blowing the roofOff a shanty church
What an authenticPentecost might do
With scant regardFor our attachments
The sacred iconsBy which we areConnected to the Divine
Snatched from our graspSo that we have nothingTo hold
Us back from surrenderTo that which we cannotControl
(San Antonio De Areco,Argentina)
