On That Day

What happened to life when the wind stood still.

"On That Day"



On that day,
the wind stood still.
Lost was its song in the trees
and roar on mountain tops.
No frantic waves of hellos and goodbyes
on the sailing seas and fields of grain.
Even tall stands of sunflowers felt slighted
without their ability to sway and swoon.

Raptors and wrens disengaged in flight plans.
Tree frogs, crickets, and katydids
whispered cryptic messages in the absence
of sacred soft night-breezes.
Gone were the flirtatious winks
with Sir Sun, Missus Moon, and our Sister Stars.
Missing were the whistles whipping through tunnels
and around bends of winding roads.

No more shimmering dances donned
with sparkling beads blowing on snowy roof tops
and icy pathways.
An owl could only blink the question, "Whooooo?"
The wind, the breath of us, knew the 'why'.

Muses forgot the magic,
poets lost their pens,
romantic mystics misplaced the runes,
universal symphonies silenced without notes,
because on that day,
when you left,
the wind of life stood still.

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