Change in the weather

A cold front is coming through. After putting J to bed, I step outside to catch the last of the unseasonably mild air.

The rolling hill behind the house is no longer vivid green. It is muted and sleepy. The twilight sky is steel-gray. The wind is roaring in from the West, pushing insistently through the trees. The branches are bare and black in the fading light, like nerve endings reaching up to the clouds. The wind chimes clang restlessly. The last of the evening robins laugh nervously. Within each break between the gusts I hear the peepers down in the stream calling out to no one in particular. Their jocularity is drowned out by the next thrust of heavy breeze.

Maybe it's because I know this is Spring the changing weather doesn't fill me with dread. I smile and breathe deeply the gathering night.

Clang, clang, clang.