The wind is blowing, not to strong not to annoying, but constantly blowing and blowing, and while doing so, as it passes through my hair it whispers in my ear: “It is time to go…. go… go…”
The struggling sun is trying to push the clouds away, but they are resisting very hard. It is their time to reign and conquer the sky, thus fighting back to stay. As I keep walking slowly by the pathway, I silently witness greens bit by bit turning yellow and brown.
Dancing with the wind, leaves free themselves from the trees and like mischievous ballerinas they dance their way to the ground, where mother earth gives them a tender welcome.
A few stubborn flowers remain untouched by the obvious change, though struggling to keep alive they are not yet ready to fade away. The wind utterly tries to blow them away while the clouds hide the sun from them. Soon, very soon their wombs will be ready to nurture the soil, for next spring to blossom with joy.
The cold is getting into my bones; intuitively I hug myself attempting to warm up my body. With nostalgia I scrutinize the horizon, searching for clues and looking for answers, although I know the answers aren’t far away, but it’s still nice to play pretend every now and then.
The sun didn’t make it, since the clouds were very persuasive today on having a proper winter day. Regardless of the cold, the hollowing wind, the luck of sun and the solicitude of the landscape, it is still a beautiful winter day.
I keep walking feeling at peace and content while listening to the wind… it keeps telling me of new lands far, far away… of different people I shall meet… of chances and adventures I will not regret… of fairy tales I must take part in…
The wind of winter bewitched me; I shouldn’t have listened to it, for now I must go… riding with grace the wind of change.
© 2010 Gabriela Abalo