Jilly D.

Stirred, shaken, crushed…but not broken

In Mourning, Time and seasons on April 19, 2011 at 2:34 pm

Weathering life’s storms is more than a test of endurance; it’s a bona fide obstacle course. Today’s winds provides an atmospheric turbulence to my reflections as I walk the dogs alone at dawn. 

Just a few years ago such winds determined whether we had any electricity or not. And in high wind storms, I worried Sam’s windmill tower would come down. He’d sit in front of the meters like a kid in a candystore; hearing and feeling wind turned into power.

This morning branches break overhead and drop to the floor of the woods.  Young saplings sway and bend; only rarely does one snap. The winds whip around my ankles and tangle with the hem of my coat. The air rushes down my collar and chills my neck and shoulders. The force of the air bites my face. The rushing sound of whipping wind inside my ears makes my head ring.

Stirred. Swayed. Bent, but not broken.


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