https://www.elevators.com/aiu9k7xj
https://mocicc.org/agricultura/wbatli9q8
enter A southern breeze was born
https://www.yolascafe.com/tnpt9u5dkws far before the central Oklahoma horizon.
https://onlineconferenceformusictherapy.com/2025/02/22/jfhfnhjeb Darting across the prairies, bumping over the lakes
https://www.brigantesenglishwalks.com/ysrp1udj7 it grew in strength and unpredictability.
source site By the time it reached my four-room home
https://www.marineetstamp.com/aon75sedd the wildness forced a path through our porch screen door,
go here under my bedroom window sill covered in cracking pale blue paint,
http://www.mscnantes.org/bzp0dd4 and around the corners of white vinyl siding
https://www.mreavoice.org/6snupeu imprinted with tiny ridges.
https://alldayelectrician.com/j38nw3lj9jr Whooo-OOO bellowed the gales.
source url My four year-old eyebrows lifted, while my legs chased
follow url the noise through my home’s center
https://getdarker.com/editorial/articles/ttsjo9dfulz and out the back door.
follow Practically falling down the back steps,
https://guelph-real-estate.ca/lwslg75s my chase ended as I saw the noisy blusters
https://geolatinas.org/my0pw2q6h2 take shape by lifting and expanding sheets hung on the
steadfast clothesline wire.
As the fully masted linens released the
grass-scented air with pops! at their hems,
I chased that wind until my scrawny legs gave way to fatigue.
The wind was older, stronger and faster.
Collapsing into the prairie grass-covered pasture,
I closed my eyes and listened.
The wind hadn’t gone after all.
Its infinity caresses passed over the tufts of Love grasses,
rattling the small dried seed pods.
Its fingers played with the wisps of my summer-colored hair
on my forehead and cheeks.
The folds of my ears created a new
whistle for the breeze to play,
to slide across, finishing with a high G-sharp.
The noise vibrated the membrane in my ear.
“I am here,” the whistle told me. “I’ll always be around.”
The wind became my friend that day
and when the occasional draft bursts across my face now,
I want to dance with it on the prairie,
accompanied by the percussive rattle of Love grass seed pods,
until I fall into the sweet pasture’s arms
because my legs have no more strength.
Sounds like my youth. This describes OK so well. Mom B.
I’m glad the OK wind was part of so many youths’ lives. I hope our prairie stays alive to dance with our future too.
Love the word pictures you have drawn with this piece! Simply beautiful!
Thank you, Southwest Sara!
Oh Kelly, I loved this post! Such a beautiful experience that you painted with your words.
Hugs,
Rose
Hugs are a great way to finish dancing with the wind…back atcha, Rose!