buffeted and bathed

All four winds together can't bring the world to me
Shadows hide the play of light, so much I want to see
Chase the wind around the world, I want to look at life in the available light.

I'll go with the wind
I'll stand in the light

Nope, not mine. That's Neil Peart again. But Ivan the terrible blew the lyric into my mind this morning as I stepped out of the shower and looked across the room at Al asleep on the bed.
All night the wind whirred without dying down, a sustained sound of machinery. As the sky began to lighten, the wind kept up. I got dressed and came back into the bedroom. There was a long thin patch of sunlight on Al's pillow beside her face. The praising branches outside the window would block it out, then let it through. I walked over to the window and stood and watched the rays fighting to break through the clouds and trees. As the sun rose higher, peering from behind the clouds, I watched the play of light reach Allison's face. Bathed.
The lyric came to mind. I thought of that sustained wind. Seemed like my whole week. Buffeted. But the wind serves to move me. I can sit back and see what the wind blows in, or I can be blown by the wind. I can follow, chase it, blow away the shadows and stand in the available light.
Tonight the breeze is still blowing, the clouds are all gone. Behind the kitchen window, a candle flickers. Above the deck, millions of playful twinkling pinpricks.
Plenty of light.