A letter.

When the wind reached its top speed, the tree branches were stretched half way to the ground. The tall grasses pressed flat and flowers closed their petals, like lashes, against its bitter sweetness. Only the clouds revelled in the weather, dancing and racing across the skies. I only had to look up once, catch a glimpse of an orange sun setting quickly, before I knew it was time to find shelter indoors.

The summer months are always like this, days blurred with hard winds, warm rains, and moments of blissful peace. I spend my nights watching the flames bounce and leap, as they lick the wood in the fireplace. Every crackle of the embers is like a soft kiss to my ears. I can still remember the times when we would sit there together, before you went away, and I daydream now about your return. It's been weeks and there has been no word from you, my love. I know in my heart we will be together again someday, and I do try to be patient. I will wait for you. I take comfort in repetition and find myself numb to the days passing but I see this as a blessing because it means time isn't being hard on me. The days aren't endless, though they have been many.

In the fall the trees will stiffen with red leaves. My hair will have grown long again and the waters in the rivers and lakes will cool, lulling the fishes to restfulness. It will be here soon, as I wait for you. By then it will be as though everything waits for you with me. Can't you hear the birds singing?