By the small birch tree

The shadow of the small birch tree hugs my space. Soon the cold winds become freezing gusts. A truck hustles by me leaving its unsettling noises and screeches behind. The leaves and rocks flip-flop and hide amongst the woodchips. The grass is brittle and hard unlike the grass of a warm spring day. My head perks up as the winds gusts gently brush my face. The air moves all around me sending chills down my spine. Shaking in the frigid cold I become relaxed.

The sky’s and the ground seem bare, due to the lack of creatures not lurking there. The squirrels, chipmunks and bees are long gone, leaving a disturbing silence, and emptiness. The leaves cackle and click just waiting to break the winds dead silence. Pieces of bark chip and peel, letting the cool air nip inside. The sun hangs out high in the sky but provides no warmth. Clouds fill the sky with their entertaining shapes, sizes and forms. Leaves, skip and flourish across the pavement like little ballerina’s.  The branches sit and rest until the next gust comes and takes its toll.

Trying to keep warm in the nipping cold air, my arms shiver and freeze. The bushes sway steadily with the winds unpleasant gusts. A fresh fragrance of pine needles moves around in the air filling every space with its unique difference. A lone cricket hops, flutters and turns like he can’t make up his mind where to go. Wishing to stay longer I slowly make my way to class.