I sit outside my house, my mind clear and vacant. The sun shines mildly but brightly. I watch the trees sway, dancing to the energetic tunes of the wind. I ask myself, “do the trees really want to dance, or do they do so out of coercion?” Is there an understanding between the trees and the wind, or is it a case of master and slave?

The wind calms, and so do the trees, standing still like the moments ago never happened. I want to ask the tree if it loves to dance, but I don’t know how. I beat my hands on the wooden stool that I have been sitting on, but the trees merely shiver. I beat harder on the stool until my hands start to hurt me, but the best I get is a little more shiver from the trees. I give up. I will just sit here staring at the trees, I conclude, wondering why it won’t dance to my tunes. Maybe it doesn’t like my melody. Maybe I am not hitting hard enough. I do not know.

Now, the wind comes again, as if to mock me. It succeeds. I gaze at the trees with a humble look upon my face as they begin to dance again. I do not blame the wind for being able to make the trees dance when I can’t; and I want to hate the trees for refusing to dance to my melody. I can’t. How can anybody hate something that dances so beautifully, even if not to their tune? I decide to enjoy the dance and try to learn the technique of the wind. It’s difficult, but I am determined.

I look up to the sky, the clouds are gathering and it’s starting to get dark all of a sudden. The wind is blowing harder. It flogs my skin all over with a harsh coldness that is mixed with subtle pleasure. I close my eyes and stretch my hands out sideways, relishing the moment. Briefly I forget the dancing trees and almost start to dance myself, enjoying the melody of the wind.

I feel a sharp sting on my cheek as I hear mama screaming my name from inside the house. I open my mouth to answer her call, but the wind fills my throat and I almost choke. Papa is not back yet; I hope he doesn’t get wet. The rain is falling already and I am running into the house. I stop to look at the trees again; they are dancing even more beautifully now, swaying and twirling harder. Mama calls again and I realize that I am soaked already. I dash inside the house hoping Mama doesn’t scold me for playing in the rain. She does. She pulls my ear and smacks my buttocks; “Go and dry yourself!” She commands. I do not cry, but my face and my eyes are wet, I think it’s the rain. I remember the trees; I will learn to make them dance another day.


13 thoughts on “SOUND OF THE WIND

  1. Nature has a̶̲̥̅ way of intriguing us, Freely its was giving by God we should not only enjoy its splendor will should emulate it. Nice one Dude keep it Up

  2. Really, I think this sucks.. Maybe cause I’m jealous but it sucks anyway. I’ll beat you to it one day. *sticks out tongue*

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