When the Wind

When the Wind

(“Suddenly, a sound like a violently blowing wind came from the sky and filled the whole house where they were staying.” Acts 2:2)

The sand stretches its aggregate collection across
the desert where horizon greets bluing sky: quietly.
The desert has its own silence that waits for the next burst
to rearrange dunes southern and scoot stones in the other direction.

Heat rises from the accommodating desert floor, stored overnight
while the air froze motionless and skies expanded curtainless
for eyes to take in the old-fashioned light of stars perhaps
flickering their last quiet millennium.

No one observes the processes that take longer than the
lifespan of a man,
but the evidence left behind suggests more life in bands
of history jammed in practice-cake layers.

The flash floods widen the floor and deep,
the accelerated water feeds the sleepy saguaro
and wakes the watching Gilas for one more life-giving
drink.

Waiting is a better virtue than making,
praying is a better chart than late complaints.
When the wind arrives, give wing;
When the fire descends, then sing;
when the Spirit fills, then everything is burning
(bushes and hearts and thrones and plans)
until the desert blooms with grace like Eden
again.