A Threshold of Understanding

The wind howled my name

I thought in anger,

so I stayed inside,

bundled away from

its tempestuous bluster.

Then I wondered

how it knew me,

to seek me out

in such a personal way.

I listened,

safe in my blankets

of self-deception,

thinking if I studied

the patterns in

the wooden doors,

I would be free of

confrontation.

My dismissal

aroused its ferocity.

It rattled insistently

at the eaves,

sending shivers across me

like a dress of ice,

my name was shrieked in

its ferocity, beckoning a

response.

Resigned,

I stumbled darkly

to the threshold

of my uncertainty

and slid open

the window,

shaking with determination

to not be afraid.

At once a cool caress

swept across my

apple cheeks.

My closed eyes

beheld the whisper

that was its touch.

Why did you summon me?

I queried.

Again the wind

repeated my name.

Eyes opened,

I became aware.

Answers are as questions,

only relevant

when someone

listens.

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