I LOVE THE BREEZE
Whether or not it’s a sizzling desert wind, a cool autumn breeze, a chilly winter zephyr, or the comb of Spring’s breath – redolent with the scent of orange blossoms, aromatic honeysuckle, and new-mown grass.
I like to see daylight sparkle like shiny gems in movement, off the windblown leaves of timber.
Satisfaction fills my coronary heart when our nation’s flag furls like waves upon a deep azure lake.
Beneath the new summer season solar, my physique welcomes the errant breeze that lifts my hair and ruffles my garments; cooling me because it blows gently over my salt-sweated physique.
Chilly winds, like messengers on an errand, deliver the bitter readability of a harsh winter season, and but I embrace it. They startle the senses after they carry the scent of crushed snow, the tangy aroma of leafy pine timber, and the beckoning scent of wooden smoke.
Autumn brings with it the fragrance of recent cider, the spicy delight of pumpkin and candy potato pies, ripened apples, and the smoky remembrance of fall that wafts from leaves afire in iron barrels.
Regardless of the season, there’ll at all times be the wind; the Breeze that conveys a reminiscence, a second in time that holds a specific significance, a forgotten place remembered, a cherished vignette – an historic chapter within the e-book of your life.
We must always be glad about the Breezes that present us such treasured moments. How nonetheless our world could be, how vacuous, had been it not for the Breeze.
~*~ Kathy Pippig
The day is sun-infused good, with the mixed heat climes of summer season melding with the final eddies of Spring-cooled zephyrs. Effervescent, cottony fluff undersides of clouds are flat and darker than the billowy white tops.
The solar sprinkles liquid silver on all of the shiny surfaces; babbling brooks, the slick leaves on timber and bushes, the chrome on automobiles parked alongside the streets and in loads on the close by park, over the brightly coloured bikes of youngsters pedaling alongside a riverside path, and on the gleaming fur of canine on a stroll with their people.
A breeze wafts over the inexperienced lawns and the graveled path that borders the tree shaded creek; lifting Spring’s fallen blossoms in a gradual transferring dance. Swallows, blackbirds, and finch whisper their tales and their songs are carried on a swirling zephyr.
Within the daylight and shade, each individual, younger and outdated, experiences these magic moments that Mom Nature has created for, and shared with them. These are the fun that nature offers us; like a chapter in a e-book that fills the story with inspiration, peace, and maybe, begets a religious awakening.
Nature is likely one of the voices of The Creator. And whether or not the message is mild, as a summer season breeze, or grand, as an excellent sunlit day – we’re touched – as The Creator, via nature, speaks to us.
~*~ Kathy Pippig