Wind in the Trees

Last night I went to bed early. Because of that, I woke up very early this morning: about 4:30 if we are being honest. I was laying on my stomach trying to go back to sleep when I gradually became aware that I could hear the wind in the trees outside. Somewhere a neighbor's wind chime jingled in random dis-resonance.  

I realized that in about a month we would be moving into an apartment and there are no trees anywhere around.  This was rather depressing but rather than dwell on it, I took a deep breath and buried myself in the soft wooshing outside my window. 

Nature is hard enough to find in the city and its hard enough for man to find his connection there. It's easy to lose oneself in the false connections of possession   and position with a healthy dose of alcohol or other drug to bookend your week of toil with an alternate consciousness. None of it can take the place of grass beneath your feet or dark chilly water slipping past your body.

The apartment is a smart choice and I feel that it is the right choice. But there is no part of me that doesn't already mourn the breathy voice of the wind, whispering her past and future In The arms de los arboles at 430 in the morning.