Wind Storm

The wind was in such a hurry today. Everything was in its way. There was a sense of urgency in the air. Green leaves were stripped from their branches before their time and brown leaves, wet and well settled on the ground, were picked up and sent higher than some of the trees they came from.

I looked where the wind was coming from and I looked to where it was going. It was either fleeing from a predator I could not sense or it was rushing toward a closing door I could not see.  The world was in the wind’s way and cottonwood trees were straining to hold their ground where they stood - to withstand the windstorm’s haste. I asked the wind ‘what was it running from and where was it going?’ but there was too much noise tangled in its coat tails for it to hear me and it was too focused on its own needs to notice me. Everything was on its own in the middle of that wind-storm.

Looking at the sky, from inside, through a Southeast window in this creaking house I can now see the dark colored swabs of cotton in shapes of insects and monsters chasing the wind from their magical sky. I am pretty sure that the storm wouldn’t have been so bad if the wind hadn’t become so frightened that it panicked in-front of the clouds. Oh well, there is no real damage done and the wind will come back one day. Although, I never know what direction it will return from. Everything seems so still and so quiet now that the wind has gone.