the wind

and my unwillingness to bend to her torrent.

I hate the wind. Gentle breezes turned angry. The galloping of horses, heavy on air.

A cacophony of all that is wrong with Mother Nature.

For she does not go silent into the night. Like a harlot skulking into the shadows. She is like an angry lover, letting everyone know that she has been wronged.

Branches of trees whip against the backdrop. Leaves scatter, scurrying for their lives. Animals hide, for they fear her wrath.

Dust to dust, swirls of fury leave my lungs heaving for breath.

My hair has a mind of its own. Tendrils about my face, mirroring Medusa.

Eyes stinging, heart beating, I weather Mother Nature’s storm.

But I do so unwillingly.

Oh, but I so do hate the wind.