The Sights:

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The Thoughts:

The soft, rhythmic thud and crunch under my feet
Concrete and sand under pressure
The rustle of my jeans
The swishing friction of my winter jacket
Wind whipping afar, then buffeting at my face
Jostling its way around the space of my hood
The quick rustle-and-stop of a small, frightened animal
Startled by a sharp crunch of a leaf underfoot
My slow, deep breaths quickened by a jab of the wind
A moment of quiet as the wind slows
The hum of a large motor taking the quiet’s place,
To only then fall back into silence.
A brief crunch of snow underneath,
The soft give of mud in my next step
The wind coming back again,
Only to then dart away
Giving the bowing trees and cold creatures a bit of reprieve.

The Sounds:





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