Autumnal Wind

The wind rustles the trees, but not an ordinary wind. Something of the Autumnal category. The branches hit the glass of my bedroom window unintentionally. The window has gotten in the way. But it wakes me. The moonlight casts a shadow of said branches into my room, and I am used to those particular shadows, otherwise it would be a little spooky. Then suddenly silence overtakes the rustle, hushing the leaves.

I can hear my own bated breathe awaiting more wind, or possibly even some rain? It is hard to tell with these shifty Autumnal winds. But it is quiet again. So it was just a flash of wind, I imagine, flying down from the North, hurrying along its path to get South, like the visitors we get in the Winter who do the same thing.

Snuggling back under my soft sheets and blanket, my eyes close again and resume previous sleep and dream sequences. If the winds come back, I do not notice.