A tickle
of the skin.
A tingling
of the cheek.
A flicker
of a tendril
of hair.
Something is coming,
foreboding, menacing.

A bustling
of the thin red coat,
meant for early fall,
not for this.
A shivering
down the spine,
so sturdy and strong,
and yet so vulnerable
to something invisible,
intangible.

Suddenly—

An explosion
of wind
that sends crunchy leaves dancing,
hearty trees bending,
and little houses howling.
Eyes shut tight,
I feel it,
all across my body,
every pore filled with
frigid
fierce
air.
I feel it. Everywhere.

And,
as quickly as it starts,
it weakens.
The coat falls still,
the long hair hangs calm,
the buildings compose themselves.
Dying leaves end their hoedown,
and trees stand tall once more.

And the people
go about
their day,
like nothing ever happened,
like nothing ever happens.

But I,
I will remember that wind,
that glorious,
glorious wind
that moved me.