the winds long to play

Yesterday I walked home tugged here and there by strong winds and tried to remember a time when the winds had ever been this strong before in the south. Making my way across campus the winds were thrashing furiously and seemed to scratch and smack at the air around them. Tiles were skittering off roofs and branches were scattered across paths. Bewildered students (nothing to do with the weather, this is their usual state of mind) staggered down paths and sought shelter. I thought it was all so beautiful. The clouds were ominously grey overhead but somewhere beyond the trees a gap in the clouds allowed the sun through and everything was bathed in the slanting golden light. How could the world seem so silent and so noisy all at once? As if the world sat back and watched the trees fight it out with the winds. I was at turns hit by the wind from the side, pushed back so I had to fight for every step and, best of all, swept up from behind walking with the wind picking up my feet and whipping my scarf and hair around me. I remembered as a child waking up one morning, looking out my window and seeing a tree in the garden that had not been there the night before.

and forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair
Kahlil Gibran