(or Ode to John 3 and Ecclesiastes)

“The wind blows where it chooses…”
…sometimes I sit in it,
in peaceful splendor,
breathing in the aroma of its mystery…

“…you hear the sound of it…”
…I lean in to listen
to its whooshes of silence,
trusting the hope in its presence…

“…you do not know where it comes from…”
…watching it flow suddenly
through the lushness of emerald grasses
pondering the meaning of its way…

“…or where it goes…”
…when it fades into the sunset
of day’s unavoidable end
loneliness overwhelms my soul
until I am once again
“…chasing after the wind…”