Around here, the wind is something to behold.
It’s called a chinook.
It’s a wall of motion carrying snow and ice crystals. A force that makes you bend towards it, bracing into it. If by chance it offers a quick respite, it immediately offsets ones balance. Especially if your footing is icy.
It howls and rumbles through the darkness like a train in the night. Waking you up by shaking your house, testing the integrity of the roof.
Sculpting the snowdrifts into dunes, like an incredible frozen desert.
The sunshine called my name this morning and I took my chances.
It didn’t disappoint.
Coat zipped tightly. Hat fitting snuggly under my hood.
As little skin showing as possible.
Only my forehead and the bridge of my nose froze.
I held my arms out, imagining I am a hawk on these wind rivers.
While closing my eyes, I am pretty sure I lifted off a little ways.
The power of nature is always humbling. Always profound.
What's your true nature?
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