Winds

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The desert spring
does not come
in warm, dark thunderstorms,

but in relentless winds
that carry the precious nitrogen
to thirsty pines–

like the cosmic winds
that once brought
seed to our earth
a long time ago,
starting a chain
of endless life.

Endless winds
that blow everything
that is not bound or attached,

uncaging last year’s seeds
for the strange new birds
that have come for spring nesting.

Winds that loosen
the cords and strings
that hold us,
freeing us so we are ready
to accept the holy seed.

We place it in Her darkness
there, together on hands and knees.