A WIND BLOWS through the trees and I listen to their rustling leaves. A wave rises from the ocean and comes for me, sitting idly on the shore.

In the evening, a bird swoops down from where it’s perched high on a phone line. It stays low to the ground before catching a subtle breeze. The bird drifts through the darkening sky, as if it knows the secret to life.

 The moon hides behind the flowing clouds like an embarrassed child, afraid to shine.

The sun commands the sky, watching over all people and all things, conveying its warmth like a nurturing healer.

The mountain feels no remorse as it takes lives and sustains our sense of wonder. Bees work diligently and methodically, ensuring the planet never loses its sense of self. Flowers bloom and then they cry, tears in petals, saddened by a gloomy day.

Mesmerized by the swaying flame, we look into the heart of earth.

It churns and it dances to a song without words.

A coyote on its own travels through the empty night, seeking out a rabbit that listens for its footsteps. A lizard basks on the baking concrete, its fingers outstretched and its white belly down, garnering the last of midday’s rays.

The desert, bereft of an outward show of life, imparts a majesty in countenance, truth buried in the sand.

A dog remains curious, heeding the call of her nose and any chance to play.

The cat, oh the cat, a phantom in the night. Soundless, weightless, his green and oval eyes pierce a shield like an arrow; his purr contains an ancient mystery.

A man sits in traffic as he watches life go by. And then out of nowhere, nothing makes him cry. A woman scores the final goal — they called it anything but possible.

Life that can’t be seen.

Spirit — gives meaning to this dream.