The Wind In July
A fierce wind has started to blow outside my window. I know her very well. I wait for her every year until after the first rains. And then I become impatient. For that is when she comes billowing with rage. I have known her for a long time now. And in spite of her ferocious nature, I look forward to meeting her. She destroys everything in her path uprooting the weak and flinging away the old. She is after all the harbinger of the new. She is a force that I can never forget. When I go to sleep, she whistles through the window panes, they rattle as she makes her way through. The curtain turns into a balloon almost as if hiding an entire person behind its concave shape. Sometimes I think she appears as a person and vanishes soon after. Leaving the curtain rustling, almost as if it were breathing with the lungs of a drowning man. Desperate to live but condemned to death. But then she returns and breathes a new life into him. Resurrects him. Just as she blesses the parched earth...