Wind

When she was little, she tried to tame the wind. Admiring the way the trees bowed and waved in the breeze. Upon silent streets, cheers erupted as an invisible presence passed through. Transparent, but not unnoticed. It could be calm and gentle, or fierce and howling through the chimney. She wanted nothing more than to possess that power; to exist without being forgotten and heard when she needed to speak.

As she grew, she learned to feeling of wind on her skin as freedom. The dark night cloaking innocent mischief as she ran out in secret with friends. The wind kissing her cheeks and blowing by with passing cars as they hid. The parting of still air as she whipped through on roller skates, dancing along with the beating bass under the disco ball. Creating wind, at last, where there previously had been none.

Once grown, she breathed calmly as the wind rushed the shore. She admired the water obey each gust as it leapt into somersaults on the beach. The sails on far-out boats being given mighty pushes to their destination from the merciful and powerful force of nature. Her inner child delighted by kites in the hands of small children running up an down the wall of the ocean. She wondered if they, too, could see the wind the way she did.