So I defied my reservations. Wearing a light jacket, I walked out into the day and was instantly broadsided by the wind, as shadows played on the ground like passing thoughts. A few people were out and about, shrouded by the vortex, isolated within their thoughts, since there was too much wind to carry on a conversation. It simply whisked away their voices, but there was still the occasional wave or acknowledging nod from passers by. Columbia folks are friendly.
Yesterday, I heard robins in the rain, but today even they were mute in the face of the gusts.
I heard a train in the distance, wailing through the wind. For me, the past is borne aloft on that cry, sailing down through the years, stirring memories of childhood.
On Mill Street, PPL workers in bucket trucks reconnected lines as fire police directed traffic.
I returned home, with the endless whine and growl of lawn mowers distracting me as I typed this.
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