Winter Wind

I was wakened by the knocking on my window sill this morning. Followed by a whistle and lonesome howl. The winter wind had come to call. And at such an early hour. It had traveled from the north and was persistent in its intent to be heard.

From whence comes this stealthy traveler who is to be heard and not seen? Canada? The Artic? Was it born on the Greenland Sea ? The Baffin Bay and Hudson would have pushed it and replenished it as it brought it’s chilly nature south. To Illinois. To my window, begging to come in.

I rose to the window to see it’s affect on the trees and shrubs along the garden path. I watched as they bowed and stood in obeisance and recognition of this winds long journey. The plants shivered and shook before it. After a moment or two, with a final low moan, the force of air was gone. Miffed at my reluctance to invite it in perhaps, and impatient to move on .

There are many places to see when you are as free as the wind is, more leaves to disturb from resting. More windows to chasten and slumberous folks to raise.

 Dec 2011