May it always be at your back…

The wind screams aloud tearing through the night like hot sauce down a small intestine. Nothing shall get in its way, not the birds of prey or the road before us, not a whippoorwill or a Ford Taurus. Go the right way and you have an instant friend at your back, telling you to move along while the getting is good. Turn against it and the enemy you never knew smacks you in the movement of any part of you.

Take not for granted ye zephyr on steroids, or ye shall find your bones scattered on yonder field. Get inside now, and do not come out until the breezes of nature say so.

Keep on keeping on oh breezy devil, take what you will and head on down the road. You have overstayed the welcome you never had, and best be moving south, leaving behind your mess of things not chained down. We know we will see you again another day, but not today, not today.