Nothing But the Wind
Windswept could never be more apt in hours like these. I walk in the company of no one, past bayside fields where ocean winds strip back the snow, leaving bare fields and blocked roads. The trees spark white in my black and blue world, where the sun waits to sink below a heavy sea. It goes right through me, nothing but the wind. It began with the blizzard, the first one I ever felt, cut deep in case I hadn't learned what the world can make of itself. I've got an aching heart the size of the sky, but why? Because I'm just a tiny thing, tied to shelter for survival. This isn't my habitat, the fish and fowl belong, but not me. I'd die of exposure on my first night in the open. That's what's unspoken, maybe – the starkness, the loneliness, the  irrepressible  beautiful emptiness of taking the everyday ordinary, and finding a fable. A true story of losing little old you in a big old planet...

February 14, 2017
St. Croix Cove, Nova Scotia