Small Straws in a Soft Wind

Like whispers from the earth’s gentle breath,
Small straws in a soft wind drift unseen yet felt, subtle yet profound.
They say life is a delicate dance, and the balance must be struck
not in grand gestures but in the quiet, unassuming sway of the world.

The Kind Ballet of the Meadow

Imagine a meadow touched by the wind; grass dips in graceful bows,
a choreography dictated by forces greater than, unseen.
Each blade, each straw, small as each is in being,
is an individual instrument in the general orchestra of life.
The fragile sway reminds us
“Our tiniest actions send out ripples into larger currents.”
What is a straw but a whispered reminder
that every  little tendril is anchored
to the vast, breathing whole?

Fleeting Shadows And Fleeting Lives

Dappled sunlight flickers through the lacework of branches,
a play of light and shadow — a metaphor for all of us.
Moments hang there for a few beats and then dissipate, brief as a sigh.
The soft wind, the waving straw—are they not
images of our fleeting lives?
**We, too, are so many passengers in an infinite flow
at the mercy of a higher power. **
And yet, in that transient dance resides meaning,
for to drift is not to be lost
only to go where life wants it.

The Network of Connected Souls

Under a rooftop of stars or leaves,
the spider weaves a fragile web.
Stagnate and lay alongside each other, each strand in perfect unison.
So, it is mind-boggling how each thread adds to your life
to a much larger structure than itself.
The Small straws in a soft wind.
Like each straw, each life agrees to lend
its light presence, weightless, equalizing the scales of everything.
Without one, the web starts to come apart.
“There is no isolation in nature, only connection.”

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The River Says If we live in a sign that changes, we’re in the voice of the River.

The ebb of the River is the ebb of the wind.
Gentle and quiet at its inception, it gains power,
cutting through the stone, unrelenting in strength.
Trails of its current, straws, helpless, bobbing,
speak of surrender not weakness, but grace.
Like the River and its tributaries,
we are mere eddies in the larger current.
“It’s not in resistance; it’s in rhythm
that we understand our place in the world.”

The Call for Responsibility

But straws, as light as they are,
Does not bear the burden of negligence.
A branch has broken and joins the stream;
a casual hand shatters the wind’s song.
In the gentle wind, the earth murmurs,
“Save what is fragile, sustain what sways.”
The straws we see, swaying gently now,
may disappear beneath cargo we believed to be light.

A Soft Reflection

And we, two small straws in the soft wind,
is bound to be something more splendid,
our lives a contribution to a larger symphony.
Stop and listen not just to the sighs of the wind,
but to the lessons it imbues.
For in the thin waltz of grass
and in the whisper of the leaves lies wisdom
“To be is to be effective; to move is to belong.”