The wind is so easily wind.  The trees bust buds, so nonchalantly breaking rigid rough bark rules each season.  Birds chatter in all weather mindless of the night’s storm or predictions of snow.  Sun gifts mud and flowers alike. 

Some paths, more trodden, expose roots that can trip me up and shake the walking, though they continued to thrive and dive shrugging off dirt treasure for bright day.

I follow the Truth of the Way and the Light.  I sniff out the love crumbs of goodness and sweet feeling dropped all over the path for me.  I let the wind clear my hairbrain of doubt, let new bird calls open my heart to the purity of the automatic next step.  My tender neck connecting my heart and mind is warmed by the soft scarf of Her love.  When I stick it out, I am protected.

Yet black big screaming crows are ready to pounce on any morsel of doubt I might drop for them.  I will carry a bag, package and recycle the regular old skin, dust, shit of my past and future fears, leaving nothing for them to pick apart in the bones of my day.

Cleaning up, fresh air, stepping along the Path.