The air is stirred from its static form.

Alive in a way no indoor fan could replicate.

Unpredictable and sometimes wild.

Stirring petals and leaves in intricate swirls along the ground.

Creating an entirely different kind of dimension.

Full of life and vigor.

***

The wind resuscitated me as well.

Fanning a flame I did not know to be dying.

Starved out in some dark and stagnant room.

It is not a miracle cure.

The wind will not fix a paper cut or mend a broken heart.

But everything left inside is elevated.

***

Creativity is given the vibrant life it needs to thrive.

Curiosity is given a new pair of wings to explore.

The beauty is provided at no cost except the slight sunburn.

The change is never permanent.

Dying down as soon as the wind leaves immediate memory.

I will embrace this life given to me all the same.