Lost and found is my eureka! blog, my rediscovery of my short fiction and poetry submissions published in literary magazines and university literary journals some decades ago. Interspersed, occasionally, with more recent, hitherto unpublished pieces.
The wind is not entirely mistaken in attributing to itself the mastery of a skilled surgeon, precisely applying a steel-cold scalpel to delicate regions of the human anatomy; for it, too, is imbued with a similar proficiency and storied strategy, bringing discomfort and distress to bear on a helpless subject.
The wind must take great pride in its capacity to turn modest sound into overwhelming, ear-splitting, fearsomely threatening volumes of impending alarm; skilled at initiating mere whispers of breezes then manipulating them into the shrieks of animals wild with hunting fervour, culminating in the atmospheric roar of a train thundering along the tracks of the forest interior.
The wind makes bedfellows of others of nature's environmental caprices, joining with ice, sleet and snow in far northern climes; hurricanes and rain-dense tropical storms in Earth's southern hemispheres. It is an ill wind that blows no good and a veritably mischievous one that walks, leashed, alongside an absent-minded Mother.
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