Not Just Another Windy Day

The warmth of the sun turned my face bright pink,

as the wind brushed against my cheek. 

It was mid-summer when I first gave attention to the wind.

The more I recognized the wind each day it grew stronger, 

and I suddenly I couldn't resist the unknown.

 

 

I gave the wind my body, 

and suddenly I became cold all over.

Every nerve,

every cell,

every atom,

was flustered in this new territory.

 

My temperature continued to rapidly drop,

but still I could see the sun was still there blaring into a reflection,

blinding me with questions,

unknown truths,

fear.

 

I could see the brightness of the Sun, 

but no longer felt the presence on my skin,

but maybe the image of the Sun in my mind,

was just exactly that,

an image. 

 

A flash of light went speedily spiraling into my thoughts,

as I thought the Sun had overtook me once again.

I suddenly was overcome with emotion.

 

I realized my cheeks weren't rosy from the burn of the Sun, 

but because the wind was harshly reaching

pulling,

grasping,

for me to see, 

it wasn't just a windy day,

 or a windy summer.

 

The wind was what was always there.

Even on the brightest day, 

you can always find the wind,

you can always feel the wind,

no matter the direction its headed.

 

-my cheeks are no longer rosy