Just a simple story of the flow of nature.
I woke to the sound of the howling wind. It was as if mother nature was confused as to the natural flow of things. April Fool's day had come and gone. Spring was supposely in the air. The season painted an image that was quite clear. Chaos and confusion with a random order where ignorance seemed bliss in a world lost without wisdom. The wind howled with a bitter coldness holding the flakes that would soon bless the ground in a season that should be growing from the sun above. Shorter, longer, upside down in a world of echo's that history has painted before. With a simple stroke, the blissful cold would soon echo in a new season like an old hat that always fit perfectly. Not all things can we understand but in the growl of the wind we know things are a tad bit off. Tip of the hat and a gentle smile I always knew many things I could not change. One would be the wind of bitterness. For poverty is the fuel that feeds the soul. One can not know politeness when the cold wind blows.