November 13, 2006

A beautiful day has abound the valley filled with warmth and light. As the sun +should be setting in rolls great gray clouds form the west filling the horizon. Starting as distant shadows then spreading out to irrepressible weight then conquering blackness consumes the valley. The rains start as a trickle evolving to a hammering strike. The thunder rumbles. The lightning illuminates the skies. The wind, she is filled with sorrow, wails at the trees and mountains. With her cries she summons the cold winter chill.

An hour later the battle is over. No harm has been committed. The storms have moved on, but the winter chill is unrelenting. She continues to leave her mark.

By the following morning the gloominess has made himself comfortable among the mountains. With the gloom sleet and snow have been beckoned. While keeping each other company, the town hibernates to avoid the un-welcomed guests. The gloom and the chill rest their weary forms with the anticipation of sun poking his smiling face.

The valley is lifeless. No one will stir. The occasional body to attempts to flee the fury of the wind seeking shelter from the task in need. Loneliness inhabits the streets, the yards, the parks, and sidewalks. There are no sounds besides the howling wind, which possesses a moment of nothing. Nothing is all within existence.

After a full day's captivity within my home, I prepare for a venture to the outer world amongst the cold windy loneliness. Bundled from head to toe I break loose into the night. No sooner am I free in the open then the wind grabs me to be suspended in air unable to move forward. I press by body forced myself to the unknown destination. It is not important. I must keep moving. I cross the street. I hug the buildings as my bodyguards from the wind. The wind whips through my clothes. It is as if I have no muscles or skin or flesh. I am merely bones as a chime for the blowing air.

The task is futile. The wind and the cold are winning. I am no match for their harshness. They laugh at my efforts sending me back for my failure. I trek through mounds of leaves making my retreat. I feel defeated and weak for surrender. The rustling leaves escort me home as the only sound breaking my loneliness.