Yesterday Around Five

It looks angry outside right now. The tall pines bordering my home stand slanted from the winds while the dark, heavy clouds of late fall move slowly across the sky like a crowd of silent, yet hostile villagers marching in protest. Protesting what - I do not know.

Instead of leaves that flutter from the sky with light delicate movements, the leaves now move by my window like torpedoes launched from nearby trees.

Nature isn't speechless today. It howls as if in pain; about to girth birth. To what - I’m not sure. Winter perhaps.

My initial thought is that its cold outside. But its not. The warmer than normal temperature only adds to the eery feeling, as if something unexpected is about to take place.

I look out at the golden weeds that carpet the field beyond my window. I watch as the weeds move in waves like a turbulent ocean; one in which any sea captain would know there’s no safe path by which to navigate these waters. Instead the waves move irrationally, the field itself struggles for harmony and direction. As the wind blows harder, a random weed emerges from the midst and enters heights far above those it normally knows, like a ballon that’s slipped from a child’s hand, the weed travels up and out of sight.

Things that once sat without movement on my porch, now move rapidly toward that of my neighbor. I make a mental note to gather these uprooted items once the wind dies down; knowing all the while, I never will.

While the winds fight in the sky, a hawk flies over the field; suspending itself long enough to take stock of what moves beneath it before flying away. The tarp once covering my air conditioning unit in preparation for winter has now vanished. It too flew away. I can only guess that it now resides wrapped around a tree miles from whence it came, maybe the neighbor has already made it their own.

An invisible bully the wind is, as it pushes, taunts and flips one's hat off one's head until behind walls we are tucked and made safe. A gust of wind pushes my Jeep toward oncoming traffic. My heart twists with surprise. I turn down the radio, even though to do so makes no sense.

These winds, as angry as they appear, are welcomed come spring. They evaporate the last of the snow. But today, like a rumble of a herald's trumpet, they only serve to announce winter’s arrival. Times like these, I give extra thanks for the safety of my home, and wish the same safety for all. Even though I know, our world is not one in which safety comes to all.

Dogs are intuitive - they say. And yet, my white boxer knows only that something bad is growling outside, and that she needs to seek shelter upon my lap. I comfort her. Her tender eyes comfort me. We all live such different lives and yet our  lives are made similar in that we are all battered by nature, our plans are often changed by nature and we all observe nature, even if only as it passes us by.


Thank you for allowing me this melancholy moment.

Sane