After-Storm

In the night, the wind’s broom of loose twigs bound by strings of rain swept the surfaces with hurried and wild swoops leaving the last of Fall trigs and loosely attached tender Spring fresh green leaves.  Someone will have to come behind it and tidy up with a broom of straw and string.  The soothing breeze that follows the storm is stirring random paths of slightly raised waves across the pond.  They catch the rays of light that breach the lagging clouds and linger from shore to shore glittering as they go.  They bump the tender willows like a friend touching your arm and saying, “May I pass through?”  

The feathered creatures have not ceased to say their peace about the reprieve or even taken a breath from their chattering in relief.  They are happy that its force was muted.  They are singing their ballad about an aftermath invisible.  No one would know about the forceful warnings except that those deep throated frogs must be revealing the secret! It is so still that I must wonder if I were awakened in the night by a dream instead of its howling shouts.  It was just letting off steam.  And I worried for nothing.  This time, “The Lord was not in the wind” (1 Kings 19:11).  He is in the stillness instead (1 Kings 19:12).

And Jesus woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Hush, be still.” And the wind died down and it became perfectly calm. (Mark 4:39)

Stephen Williams