Wind and Leaves in Santa Fe

I am lying on a couch in a casita in Santa Fe, New Mexico. A small flame fueled by a manufactured easy-lighting "log" burns in a brick and stucco fireplace. The boards of the aged wood floors have allowed gaps to form between them from the high desert retreat of moisture, and they dip and roll from years of foundational settling. My wife and child lie sleeping in an adjoining room and the sound of a movie rumbles from the other room in which my sister-in-law and niece-in-law are probably also asleep. An occasional car or truck moans by on the narrow, short street outside. I haven't much to say as of late in the vein of social commentary. It seems as though the future is hiding out afraid it might reveal a picture stark and morbid. The present is one painted to the frame in vibrant color and irritated forms, discomforting in its harmony. The news is full of sexual and moral impropriety and depravity, fiscal abuse, legal flaccidity- it is difficulty listening. And yet, children still laugh and swing from monkey bars. They chase one another and scream and giggle in absolute delight untethered by an adult version of the world. There are farmers who have devoted their lives to a way of growing food and raising animals that rejuvenates the land and nurtures human beings. There are water-purifying devices being engineered, manufactured and delivered to places in the world where clean water could save millions of lives. There are billionaires funding windfarms to provide electricity without depleting non-renewable resources. There are mothers all over this planet hugging their children and fathers holding toddlers' hands and grandparents reading stories, and here, in Santa Fe, a fire burns in a brick and stucco fireplace, the moon shyly glows behind a thin veil of high icy moisture and a child and his mother sleep, warm and waiting. These are the rituals of today allowing us to wake tomorrow and know god in a rustling leaf drawn tumbling along the street by an unseeable breeze and to be utterly thankful for the wind and for leaves.