.

The thumping against the house stirred my curiosity. I put on my black plaid jacket and headed outside. The night's blackness kidnapped my sight as the wind played with my hair and tickled my face. The cold slithered up my back as I was lost and alive all at the same time. Feeling naked in the power of its strong arms, I willingly submitted to its lure.

Starting slowly down the hill I ambled in search of some light. My steps were slow and deliberate as I couldn't see where my feet were landing. The wind was like a tireless toddler who could not get enough of my laughter. I found a glowing spot beneath a yellow street lamp. There I stood listening to the coyotes' shrieking howls as the cold relentlessly nipped me. Even the reach of light seemed affected by this wind as its field of energy was diminished, and it failed to touch me.

The dark seems somehow more soothing.

A deep breath and a resurgence into the night found me in a new place, wondering if anyone else is being touched by the same breeze that is touching me. As it rushes across my face and down my neck, my fingers push the hair from my eyes... but I could only feel, not see this ecstasy.

The wind always changes things.

Although it is my custom to move quickly down this road, I continue on slowly. Eventually I arrive home. Feeling my way through the door I stand silent in the dark kitchen. The coffee maker's green glow attempts to fill the room. The glider is still thumping against the house. The cowbell beneath the lemon tree cannot stop clanging. I wonder if anyone else hears it.