• Aram Mitchell

a whiff of something

When I stepped outside this morning I lifted my chin and drew breath, like my dog just now in the side yard with her snout in the air catching a whiff of something. When I drew that breath I caught a smell, and for a moment, I was awake to an animal sort of knowledge. I could discern with a wink of sensation what sort of day it was going to be.

Today the wind will play among the tops of trees and circulate to the ground and begin to dry up some of the puddles pooled in the low spots in the lawn.

The trees will move with urgency. The trunks will sway. The limbs will wag and the needles on the conifers tussle against one another.

The wet on the ground will move, coaxed by the wind, toward the slow rhythms of evaporation.

I fell asleep last night feeling heavy about the world’s problems. I didn’t wake up with articulate answers. But I found a trustworthy wisdom in my body. The relationships between wind, water, trees, and flesh affirm the urgency I feel. They remind me also to breathe deep and honor the pace of things.

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