MindSpinner

The wind blew last night. It whipped at back of the house and pelted the windows with hail like fingernails clacking on keys. It sent the trash cans toppling and skidding as far as 30 feet, even the can with two bags of trash in it. The crabapple seedling by the driveway fluttered with a few dozen leaves yesterday, all burgundy and burnt orange. Today it has only three, one leaf for each branch. Meanwhile, brown leaves the size of lunch plates blew into the yard from parts unknown. And up high in a neighbor’s tree, one that pre-dates the neighborhood by half a century, a yellow bag snagged in a branch waves in the long light of late afternoon like a flag atop battlements.