Windward is Wayward

The sound of browned fall leaves rubbing together can have a hypnotizing effect. Wind itself does not make a noise, but blows into the orchestra of nature creatinga symphony of whooshes and creaks. Dust and foliage drift on unseen paths, some becoming trapped in the spider webs that box in my front door.
It was this season that stirred foreign emotions in me. The type of emotions that create a tingling between your shoulder blades. Nature called out, but how could I answer?
I let the screen door close slowly behind me while I shut the thick, wooden inside door that gave a shriek as the hinges collapsed for the night. The smell of a cold breeze and crisp leaves hung around my jacket, which warmed near the fire.
Any light still breaking through a window, only made the dark corners seem darker and unpleasant. I could faintly hear my grandfather reciting an old poem in the back of my mind:

"The leaves trapped in the spider webs

shake and shiver it appears

and though the howling wind my blow

they seem to tremble with fear."

The words sat hard in my chest, as my mind considered the possibility. Could the wind and trapped, quivering foliage be harbingers of an unsettling night? The fear began to creep through my body, making my hands and knees throb. Shadows stirred in corners as I began to lock all the windows and doors in the house, which faded but did not silence the wind outside.