Now is Winter

Now is Winter: A Chicago run

Stepping into a familiar alley,
I pause at a neighbors garden
put to bed with a comforter of snow
covering vegetable labors, sleeping in the cold

I pad to the treed street and slip into sidewalk stride
cornering towards the east, to the lake
greeting the dollar store, dentist, restaurant and bus stop
and people
hurrying in their need to be somewhere else
somewhere warm

past languages and accents local and from a world away

I smile at living in such a place
where street people and nobel medalists
queue for the same bus
that's late...

I turn from my usual route

easier to go with the wind i think 

and fly into friends, 

warning me of the wind and cold they've endured
to walk to and from breakfast

they say "now is winter!"

while anchoring me for a moment with warm hugs

we part with a gust

them to home and defrosting

me, into the damp wind looking for the lake

my hat stays on, barely

the ear warmer come out of a pocket

zipper pulled up tight on the running shell

and thin gloves, with hands inside

pulled up into sleeves

I lean into the wind

but it is all treachery, push becomes pull in an instant

buffeted from all sides it steals my warmth

If I don't protect it
still I run,
I see the water now, goal in sight

I plod on 

playing a game with the flying air

shadows of buildings my refuge, 

a moment of safety 

then I am reminded that nature is in charge

and shadows of calm become maelstroms

my hat is at risk again and again

swirling bags and handbills follow me

as I run from shadow to shadow

between rapids of air and finally

under the drive that divides lake from city

a tunnel boundary into nature's gift to see

the inland sea is playing with its windy cousin

whitecaps dancing and splashing onto the shoreline

making frozen sculptures like a child with clay

promising to do the same to me 

as I fumble to take a picture

coming out of my shell is a mistake

but one I'm happy to make

life is not just warm

it is also cold

and alive 

dancing with the wind and wave 

not to be missed

still in my fingers as I write this

still in my body somewhere

to be drawn upon when the dance is of heat
of relentless sun...

but not now

now is winter

now the leaves are swirling in towering dervishes

not from heat

but rushing cold 

waves of arctic air washing across the city

across my body

in my mind

now is winter