walking, the morning winter winds pick up and jingle the brass bells tied to a glossy red ribbon nailed to my front porch post. their sounding clears my energy. rejuvenates my soul. the molecules surrounding my being whip into a frenzy, and the wind scoots me across the street. i feel the flutter under the feathers of my wings. receiving my ancients howls in a language felt not spoke, the winds our small and brief connection. bless it be.
small cords of the universe begin untangling before my eyes and i grasp one tendril tight, white-knuckling ride. i go, off spinning with the planet over-under-through stars. i am caught but more awake and more centered in flight. thick chilled air at high altitude preserves my nerves of steel, sealing them inside my will. then, my mind is quieting and my heart is thumping long drawn out beats. my body tingles, goes numb, and my fingers unclench. my hands open. this was my purpose: trusting to let go.