Winter Winds


Today the wind’s hollow whistle sounds cold and wintry.   The pleasant chatter of overhead leaves has given way to the stale clatter of ashen branches, exposed and undone.  A raspy ruckus rises from the field as the vast stand of sun-crisped corn stalks rubs shoulders.  A menagerie of dry leaves skips and skids down the black-topped road, scuffing and scraping on their way to nowhere in particular.

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