Photo by Mitchell Hartley on Unsplash

The wind howls like a hammer…

Whenever the wind blows the way it is blowing now, on this cold April day struggling so mightily to escape the icy grasp of an unusually cold winter; whenever the wind howls around the corners of whatever building that protects me; whenever the wind howls through trees and shrubbery and grasses, or down the canyons or across prairie or high or low desert — whenever the wind howls like a hammer, it leaves me wide awake with terror.