The Wind and Me

I've become accustom to the howling wind as he invisibly moves between my house and the next.  Today is grey and matches my mood.  

So the moaning wind is welcomed in my solitude.


It seems as if mother nature feels my energy and feeds the rest of the world with it, crying her        
   tears, flashing her anger, and pushing the wind beyond his bounds.
He cries to me begging for relief, but all I can do is watch and wait for the next shoe to drop.


Thunder shakes my stick of a house.
The windows rattle, as the grey sky flashes with bright, white, wiry fingers reaching to
    touch anything, but feeling nothing.
The lights overhead dim momentarily as I look up at them annoyed.


All I want is to be left alone with my thoughts.
As pressing as my responsibilities are, I want to wander in the vast, darkness.
Aimlessly, effortlessly, I need to be allowed to escape to another time, land, and be another
    person.


I don't want to have to deal with it, I don't want to have to make a decision about it.
My attention is drawn from my own thoughts to the sudden silence that surrounds me.
Has Mother Nature decided my foul mood is enough for her?


The sun tries to peek out from behind a cloud, but is quickly covered again, leaving it's tears to fall
    touching every part of exposed earth.  
In my solitude, I make my decision.
Open the door and welcome the soft gentle breeze into my home.

The curtains stir, but softly return to their uniform stance.
The wind encompasses me as if to say hello kissing my cheeks and ruffling my hair much like my
    grandpa did to me as a child.
Then he leaves out the opened door he entered.

Accepting my fate and his own.