Pat and I are privileged to live on a canal that leads into Zandvlei, an estuary in the southern suburbs of Cape Town. I was out paddling on Tuesday, and my relationship to the wind that day gave me some insights into how I choose to relate to life more broadly.

fish eagles

the same wind

it is the same wind
that sends me drifting,
paddling effortlessly
past the red-sailed sonnet
over the rippled surface
towards the fish eagle roost

it is the same wind
from which I retreat,
sheltering irritably
behind a clump of sedges
to sip my morning coffee
in company of warblers

it is the same wind
that tosses water,
splashing boisterously
over the bow – I strain
against its strong resistance
towards the shore, and home

it was the same wind …
yet I responded by
judging differently
in those few instances;
what might wind reveal to me
if I just stopped resisting?

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