They say the wind is at 55 miles per hour. Hurricane strength. But I think it is more like 36 miles now. I saw two hawks trying to get their bearing in the sky, using the wind to tumble forward. A cardinal took shelter in place. I keep thinking of all the animals that died in the Australian fires, and think of how hard it must be to be a bird in gale force wind, holding on.
The entire month feels like a waiting game. The defeat of the impeachment. The Napoleon at the table, brainless, thoughtless, ruining things because he can.
I think of nature murmuring no, of casting wind howls towards us with disdain.
The clouds, light ink blue, move slowly.