wind has blown the rain away

………a wind has blown the rain


away and the leaves and the sky and the

trees stand:

the trees stand. the trees,

suddenly wait against the moon's face.



It's ee cummings again whom I brought in to tell about yesterday's new oak leaves hitting these windows in clumps, and branches falling into the yard, and ponderosa pines waving back and forth like long grasses in the field while I sat watching, laughing, and shaking my head because I'd set aside the day to prepare for a talk on the Holy Spirit. "…suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a mighty wind coming: and it filled the whole house where they were sitting…and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit." (Acts2: 2,4)

Last night I gave the talk, driving to the parish late in the afternoon after the wind calmed and the trees stood tall again. Did wind blow last night through the group of believers in the small room where we met? I thought I felt the wind, not mighty now but swirling, bringing wisdom from their hearts, bringing tears into our eyes.

I don't remember whether, on my way home afterwards, the treetops touched the moon's face. But I do remember now how much I love to teach and how long it's been since I've allowed myself to give and receive that gift. John always used to tell me I could reach so many more people with my writing. But that's not really the point, now, is it? The point is in the meeting, in the dialogue, in the creative wind we feel as ideas are shared and questions asked and widened into horizons of wonders never before imagined.

What will I do with the leaves that now litter my yard at the wrong time of year for such detachments? Maybe I could pick them up, lay their beauty out upon the pages of a book, learn from them some truth about myself, about creation, maybe even about God that I have yet to see.