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Writer's pictureRiver Jordan

Seeds on the Wind



These days. I'm thinking of the wind. The power of it and the way it moves. Carries things. Of the invisibility. The way it can't be seen until it interacts with something else. The sea, the trees, the dandelions. That incredible power that has fascinated me. At the old place in Tennessee I could see the wind a mile away. The way it walked through the tops of acres of trees spread across the ridge, down in the little valley. I learned its moves and moods. Realized for the first time in my porch sitting life that it comes in waves just like the waves of all my growing up days rolling in from the Gulf of Mexico. Mama used to love to hear it whistle that long, lonesome sound around the house, through the perpetually cracked windows cause she said you had to have fresh air to survive. And, I think about those dandelions and how their seeds can travel a hundred miles. Imagine, that gentle power. I think about how we are all like that. How often our power is so gentle it goes unseen. About how our laughter, tears, love, and mercy carry far, far away. How they pass like seeds on the wind, will come up and bloom in places and seasons we will never see. About how we have to trust this is so, that it is true. How we just have to close our eyes, feel that wind, and be certain of carrying on into the great beyond.


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