The Tortured Wind

STRANGE AND UNRELIABLE THOUGH IT IS, the wind is my buddy.

Winter is coming and that is when the wind is disconsolate. Or, more so, it is just plain pissed off. The water – playful in summer – is now frozen and immovable. The trees are leafless and their bare branches have no grip. The snow is always around and it just follows and follows – it has no personality and without the wind, it is pretty but gutless.

Doughy and unwieldy is the wind. It is pathetic too, sometimes; oftentimes.

Wicked strong, the wind lurches along in giant, misshapen blobs, each with an invisible, tacky hide. Like the unpopular, the ambitious, the too earnest – like me, I fear – the wind tries to stick to everything it touches. But, invariably, it just keeps tumbling along because that is the wind’s true, inescapable nature.

Leaving makes the wind desperately sad, but if it stops moving, it dies.

That’s why the wind sometimes howls.

Trust me on this.

allfornow – mitch

 

Copyright Mitchell Toews ©2016

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