Two days of perfect balmy sunlit seventies. Last night a change in me, a change in weather. The winds are fast but gently moving on, and so must I.
Something has happened, sometime while the moon did ride the sky. A stronger gust of wind and then I see it; the five year cycle of a life. The need to cling is but the needed grieving time; precursor of the stronger need to blow away.
Knowing now, I will prepare.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology