The Wind Howls

I used to love listening to the wind howl
    from the Arctic to Texas and past my window.
Blue Northers we called them
    and the biting cold was a respite
    from the memory of summer heat.

Now I cannot remember summer heat
    or green growing things out in the open.
Blue Northers we call them still
    and the biting cold has no respite.
For the wind that howls past my window month after month
    blows from the south.

—a woman
  Texas Hill Country
  North America