When the wind blows, we imagine she is erasing every
sweeping misdoings from the east to the west,
making room for something new, a more whole world.
Instead, what we don’t realize is that she is rustling the
to sing us a song.
Instead, she is sowing seeds across the landscapes,
seeds that tomorrow will become the beauty that
Instead, she’s whispering for us to hold on,
to keep going, to water those seeds,
because one day, they will show us
the way home. ~ Kaitlin B Curtice, Native
How does your imagination hold wind and seed?