A blustery day
Just like my last lake cottage experience sitting and reflecting on the nature around me always seems to well up inside me a need to create. Here are the words of that creation.
The wind blows furiously. The treetops bobble up and down, to and fro. The porch swing sways back and forth. The vines intertwined along the support poles of the porch scraping the ceiling. With each new gust of wind the porch groans its acceptance of the blow. The hummingbird feeder waves wildly, caught in a whirlwind. The clouds and wind create a daytime strobe light, blinking off and on. The shadows on the porch come and go with the swiftly moving clouds. Under the cloud cove
r the wind blows cool across your skin leaving goose bumps in its path.
The wind hurries atop the trees in omnipresence, rustling the upper most leaves and swishing the tall grasses below. A hawk harnesses the wind hovering in the sky. His wings are spread wide and his tail feathers keep him anchored to the air with little effort. His head scans the ground looking for movement. The chorus of leaves yells loudly as the wind whips them around. As fall converges on the land the wind breaks off the dying leaves and sends them hurtling to the ground with speed and force. No mercy is shown. As the gusts mount, the gardens purge themselves of their flying flowers. No bird songs are heard. The crickets’ hum is barely audible above the slapping of the leaves. Only the highest pitches break through the cacophony of the treetops.
Thousands of small waves dot the black waters while the shore reeds are thrashed about, their roots being tested. The docks creak against their supports. The spider webs grip the corners with all their strength. Some are ravaged by the wind. Along the shore the purple martin condos perch atop metal poles appear strong and unwavering. Without occupants they look out to the water as overseers of the land. The air is refreshed as the wind catches the water flinging the drops into the atmosphere. The sunspots on the water reflect the hidden sun. The clouds form dark pools over the water. The horizon is bright with the promise of light.
The wind changes directions finally catching the ropes supporting the tree swing. It begins a fitful dance in the air. The branches sway the chords at the winds’ command. As the current dies down the butterflies and dragonflies begin their promenade once again. The clouds slow and the suns peeks out, it’s rays immediately penetrating the land.
Linda
Wow!! You are an awesome writer!! This is the second absolutely beautiful piece you have written recently!! What a blessing.
love you, I had a great time at the lake with you!!