November Wind

November Wind

By John W. Vander Velden

 

The November wind sweeps over the countryside.  It passes through the cropland setting the corn’s leaves to chattering.  It moves through the trees, a whoosh in the tall pines and tugs at the leaves overhead.  It whispers to the leaves.  “Come fly with me.  Let me move you across the sky, carry you to far places.  You have been held prisoner by the branch too long.” 

The November wind sweeps away the golden and scarlet leaves of the Maple.  It lifts the yellow and brown leaves of the Tulip.  Beech and Cottonwood, Sycamore and Birch, the leaves fly and fall, scurried about by the wind.  But the Oak leaves answer the winds sultry whispers, “Our task is not finished.  There is time enough to float and fly.  We will remain here high above the tumbled and tossed.”

But the November wind is not satisfied, every leaf must submit to its power.  No leaf, not Oak or Apple, escapes its desire…its conquest.  “Do not be foolish noble leaves of the Oak.  Your purpose is completed.  Join the joy of all the other leaves.  Sail the bright blue heavens.  Now dear friends…now is your time.  Why concern yourselves over a few days…a few weeks?  What has your mother tree done for you?”

“We hear your voice, oh wind, but we do not answer you today.  Duty calls and we answer gladly.  Cling we will until our final obligation supplied.  We are Oak leaves and have no haste to join the discarded you tempt and cast aside.”

The wind blows through the trees.  It tugs and tears at any leaf that remain high above.  Yet the Oak defiant, holds its children.  Their time has not come…yet.

****

I feel a different wind slide across my cheeks, whispering in my ears.  My November wind’s soft hushed tones speak to me.  “You have labored long my friend.  Set yourself free.  Surely you have earned the right, paid your dues. Sail away, leave care and obligation behind.”

I close my eyes and for a moment fantasize of life painted by those thoughts.  But I answer.  “I am bound willingly to love and duty, to place and purpose.  Yes, my tasks continually change but not my responsibilities. 

“Do you not see the wrinkles and gray hairs in the mirror?  Have you forgotten the pain of worn joints or the ache of overworked muscles?” The seductive voice calls.  “Harvest comes for all.  You have worked long and hard, now is your time.  Leave all demands behind and escape before it is too late.”

“Surely everyone days are numbered,” I answer, “But I yet have some courage and strength, and others rely upon me.”

“Tasks unfinished, there will always be.” Comes the wind’s words.  “Even when you are dust there will be work undone.  Time has come for a narrower view. You grow weary.  Think of yourself.”

“Life is more than self,” I answer, “And love gives strength unsought and it never fails. When can love of self be greater than love of others?”

“And who, friend, would do as much for your?”

I grit my teeth and face the wind. “There is no balance sheet…this for that.  I do not labor for wages…or honor….  It is simply there is work before me and I am…still…able to do it.  I fear not the task nor will I shirk the load.  Too easy to turn away, place my burdens at the feet of others.  Too easy to turn inward and seek my own pleasures.  No, time sufficient for empty hours of little consequence.  But for now I cling, for many need me and I will not abandon.”

Yes, I hear the voice on the November wind, but I will not surrender…yet.

(626 Words)  10-31-2016