I sit in the dark room and wait for light. I listen to the huff, huff sound from the fireplace, like wind whipping a canvas tent. Watching from a window, I am mesmerized by the lithe young pines, so tall and thin. They sway and bend before the approaching cold front. They look naked and vulnerable, dancing before danger.
The older trees seem unfazed. Huge, unyielding totems. In my heart I know it is they who are at risk: brittle, ready to snap in the grip of a high wind, crashing to earth with no hope of recovery.