Wind

Another challenge from my husband, though he gave it to me (and I wrote it) several weeks ago: “It’s a windy day; you should write about the wind.” Okay, then.

The wind is blowing. Lo! we hear the sound
that shakes the trees and rises from the ground,
but whence it comes, or where will next be found
we cannot tell, and it will not be bound.

The storm that sweeps across an arid land,
the gentle breath on dying embers fanned,
the gale that bows us down when we would stand:
Oh, Spirit, thus you guide our heart and hand!

Teach us once more, for we, undisciplined,
have thrown the yoke; rebellious cries have dinned;
have raised ourselves in pride; have, falling, sinned.
Teach us again, oh heaven-given wind!

Then blow once more, oh Spirit, where you will,
and in your mercy all our spaces fill.
Remake our hearts; renew the world until
it moves with you, and at your word is still.
Amen.