The Whisper Of The Wind Before Sweet Rain Falls Poem by Terence George Craddock

Most people who live in cities and within contained environments in cars are no longer atuned to sound and the nuances of nature. In jakarta I rode a motorcycle to work and back every day, at night I could pick within a block often where different colder zones started getting outside the city centre into the suburbs, where the rain would often be or start. Outside my house at midnight watching stars the wind gush before an earthquake strikes, on a beach near home wind gushes before a storm front hits; I used to code weather reports every three hours once in a harbour office so the barometer dropping slowly or fast hours before a bad front moves in was fascinating; sailors outdoors workers all had a weather ear weather sense, it was once part of our survival skills; nature talks, deer that normally run away from danger and humans will stick their necks out and just watch us in a fog and a kind of sanctuary exists, hunters pause in hunting, because the world wears a different face. We can only write what we feel and know, many movies novels do not know nature, it is like a photo of a horse running in freeze frame, the world is not quite as see normally see and perceive it, and if we do not learn to live again with nature we will fall in both health and mind; science has finally proven children exposed to nature animals who play in dirt and mud are healthier; nature is amazing when we listen.