Nonchalant Wind

A new day is silent after the storm gnawed at the door all night The bright sun lures praise and prayer once more. When the rain abated, the aging tide moulded the sky. Its corners, curves and crevices sculpted into shape nearby. After thoughts remain of power and might. The sheen of kelp survived energetic flight. While Heavens lift us on our plight. As light falls in. Things recur so often. Patterns established of old. A routine returns. Hour by hour. We run into ourselves in circles coming back.