I had these words rolling around in my mind on the very first day of March. It was such a lovely and invigorating day that came after an unfortunately necessary yet productive all-nighter. Ordinarily, the wind is something that I do not particularly enjoy, unless it is a soft breeze that cools the body and soothes the soul, timely and sweet. On this morning, however, the wind was a friend, and on my walk, it continued to be so. All around me, the day was full of the promise of Spring, of warmer weather, sunnier days, and the best yet to come. I had to keep jotting down my thoughts in my notes app, so I could continue the piece I started earlier that morning. Here is “Zephyrus”, a short composition on Spring. I hope you enjoy!
“Zephyrus”
Why do you weep, Asterie, for the man whom the bright west winds
will restore to you at the beginning of spring?
Horace
At long last, a most glorious and thrilling Spring morning is upon me. When facing the East this morning, there was not a breath of cold wind. Instead, the breezes that danced in the sky of daybreak were friendly, and they gracefully fancied themselves after the warmth of the Sun which shown through them.
Birds are singing! They call to one another lustily, their sweet songs colouring the atmosphere with a peace that is particular to the morn of day. Swallows, doves, pigeons, and finches resound in a mighty chorus. On this Lenten day, they sing to the Saviour who notices their every flight.
The only thing that darkens the promising portrait of this first Spring morning is the cacophony of cars; these hurried people, the busy street, the sound of tires against pavement—these are not friendly to the heart’s desire. Nevertheless, this day shall not be sullied by an unfortunate state of circumstances. Though this soul longs and looks forward to a day where morning, noon, and night are scored only by the sound of birds, crickets, and the occasional farm animal, there is to be no joy lost on this day. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
The affable and gentle gust softly moves my curtain, lightly teases my flag. It desires to be a kindred spirit on this day, and it nudges me to follow what is at present, the greatest longing of my young and almost-carefree heart: to get up, ready myself, and walk outdoors under its warming embrace.
I shall answer this amiable call, and today, I shall embrace Zephyrus with outstretched arms.
— zephyrus short composition spring
The singular most beautiful first of March that I can ever recollect, and one that I shall not soon forget.
There are indigo pigeons searching for moisture in the rain gutters. The first of the Japanese cherry blossoms are in full view, and greens of all hues shine bright, befitting Saint Patrick’s day. The familiar purple of olives, crushed and splattered, are all along the walkway. I feel invigorated in soul and mind.
Today is Spring personified, Spring in the flesh, Spring tangible, Spring vivid.
Zephyrus’ actions this morning are akin to the excited embraces and soul-stirring moments in the beginning of love. His emergence from Thrace has made him surprisingly thrilling, and he beckons at every turn. Anxious to prove himself, anxious to please.
Everywhere, pinks and purples are peeking from the earth, threatening to flower gloriously when their time comes. The blue sky rejoices to be so clear again. Azure buds fiercely pop from their branches, demanding attention in their own right, reminding me of their approaching blossom. The firs, stalwart as ever, seemed to rejoice themselves, their uttermost branches swaying in the warm and gleaming sunlight of Spring.
I should have brought my Minolta.
Surely, this morning was a divine gift, made almost exclusively for me. It is hard to imagine that the angels are not having their own Spring morn in the heavenlies.
Dandelions and buttercups beg to be plucked and appreciated. The sharp, piercing, and cold brilliance of the winter sun has once again retreated, biding its time for three more changes. More than any other flower, daffodils stand mightily, commanding awe and admiration. Their upright spines and aureate heads signaled an undercurrent of abiding hope. Even the neighborhood green minotaur, usually menacing, sceptre in hand, seemed to give way to a little Springtime joy. And oh, those familiar, native, right-at-home California palms appeared to be once more in their natural and right frame of mind.
As I traversed my favorite portion of the walk home, the breeze gave me one last lingering kiss, perhaps as a reminder that it could be sometimes pleasant and loving, as it was today. Every time I saw Old Glory flying high, tingling excitement nudged my heart—the start of Spring does mean that Summer is on her way. Blue jays fluttered directly before me. Even the shadows were inviting and warm. And when Zephyrus wasn’t hugging me, he moved the pebbles behind me, reminding me that his presence remained, as did his teasing love.
That’s it!
How did you like this piece? I don’t know much about the god of the west wind within the canon of Greek mythology, but I hope the little I pulled from it enriched the aesthetic and mood of “Zephyrus”, my composition on Spring! I look forward to revisiting this piece in future, and adding even more depth and devoting more words to Zephyrus. Thank you for reading :)))
p.s. more creative writing p.s.s. a little bit on zephyrus