It is dull and gusty. The sky is a thick,old blanket of grey clouds today hiding the sun like a kidnapped child. The skeleton branches of trees tremble against the cool whip of bouncy, wild air. Winter has a monotonic charm. Something is special about this depraved cycle of nature – its cynicism for vibrancy, its fight for survival, its preservation and its simplicity.
A lone, bright bird is spotted. It is soaring against the powerful current – fighting a battle to lose, yet aware and sure. In the background, against the window – a fresh, rich smell of strong coffee fingers my senses. The pavement has bathed in recent showers. It is slippery and dark. and covered with footsteps of a few workers loading a truck – an office is being moved – perhaps forever or to a larger space. It is a new beginning. Further away, a few cars stand impatiently on a traffic signal. There must be a strapped child, a busy dad talking on hands-free or a young, college kids dreaming of a big future. There is movement, albeit slow – everyone is looking for shelter and warmth or an assurance of some sort that this weather will run its course. The bird has disappeared too realizing its limitations. I hope I will see it again,when the wind strokes it gently instead of ambushing it.
There is silence. Rowdy clouds swim above. A minute passes by. Nature continues and I return to my desk.