Wind

I love wind, and the first of December was an especially windswept day. One of my favorite “alone-time” places is the nosebleed section of Princeton University’s football stadium. Of course, for a small school like Princeton, that section is only forty rows up. Still, this locale is open enough and at a sufficient altitude to swell mere breezes to tempestuous intensity.

As I pace back and forth during my lunch hour, the gusts are strong enough to stagger my balance, forcing me to brace myself. The faint, warm glow of the winter sun is a pleasant contrast to the chilling currents cutting through my clothing. The sheer power of nature humbles me as it tosses me about, yet I feel simultaneously empowered.

Wind whips through my hair.
Unseen hands caress my face.
My unbound soul soars.