The weather was full and temperamental that day. Its breath came in furious gusts, with a bluster that exploded from the four corners of the map: fat-cheeked icons from the East, West, North and South. It collided with longitudes and latitudes until it met with windy familiarity throughout the trembling sky.
The blue slate that stretched between horizons was swept cold and clean. But it was buoyant with a promise of rain and snow, the crystals of water flying through the air. Clouds in the charcoal distance were piled into jumbled designs, peering over the edges of houses like ominous parents.
Discarded leaves shivered on the ground, lying in dry shorelines bruised by the tempests in the air. They suffered and crumbled beneath the climate’s whippings. Like punished children they were silent, and turned away from the source of their injustice.
In the new and fluttering world, weary birds sat on telephone lines like grace notes. Their steadfast silhouettes created harmonies that were devoured by the curling winds, the symphonic currents. On the same communal line squirrels took confused gallops, tails arched into question marks and waving in the breeze. Repeatedly, their heroic stupidity was played out as they threw themselves into the brutal, curved air.
Below, spider webs billowed in the face of unseen storms. Strands, like shattered sails, floated above the thermal waves. Across the ground, disrupted grasses drummed and sang. Living pathways cut through the lawn, invisible and changeable as the windy day sought different journeys.
I watched with great care the dislocation of the whirling day…I studied the outraged details. I let the world spin around me as I listened to the uprooted lives whispering in my ear.