The doors are locked.
Door seals try desperately to keep the cold out.
But it seeps in, slowly.
The wild winds help it.
The pets are secured, sheltered.
Pots have been moved from perilous places, to spots where they are less likely to fall, to break.
Almost everyone is in their beds.
And while peaceful dreams beckon, the rattling continues.
Eastern winds tear past windows, shaking them and easing them from their 4 decade old hinges.
Squeaks abound, noises we’ve never heard before.
The wind ebbs and flows, but not in a gentle way. It comes down in terror, gusts blowing hard and strong, and at any moment, I picture something breaking. I wait, I tense.
The wind eases, for only a moment.
I breathe out.
Then the vicious cycle begins again.
I watch the weather report. The worst will hit in 10 minutes.
I cross my fingers that all that will await us in the morning are fallen leaves, twigs and small branches, with piles of throwaway papers because of course, tonight is bin night.
That is all.
But for now, while the winds rage…
I am grateful, for our noisy, yet protective roof.