A fierce wind blows. All day it has built itself into something strong and now in the dark time of night it rages, biting the air with cold teeth. It rattles the doors and the windows too and pushes at the house.
But She is back and when She walks the dogs in their night time hunt around the soon to be sleeping village we go too. No bats tonight, though yesterday they called out of the mild night's darkness. No owls. All are blown to roost. Only the fast falling cat shadow pools of darkness that rampage with the wind around hedges and hollows.
Back in the house we curl, still waiting for the first fire, still hoping for a peaceful lap, still waiting..... and listening to the wind's night song in the fragile leaves of autumn.
A fickle wind is blowing here also--why should I be surprised--the cats spent until nearly midnight calling it down from the mountains. They skidded through the rooms, bristled their tails, grumbled at each other.
ReplyDeleteThe sad crisped leaves are swirling down from the trees, mist gathers and then parts over the foothills. I think it will be cold soon.
Geengehairs, I woul' lighe to ride the storm weeth you!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words, so evocative...makes me want to curl up in front of the fire!x
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