November 1, 2013.
Wind howling, twisting around, through and over the tall pine trees.
The powerful old firs twist, shake and sway with each change of the wind.
I step outside and the cold icy air fills my lungs and touches my face,
 making me glad to be alive. It feel wholesome and pure.
The wind winds its way around me and chills my skin through my thin blue tee shirt.
I am swept away with the damp chilly night air and the lonesome howl somewhere north.
The cats usually rubbing and winding, raise alert little heads to the sound.
We are all alone, alone, on this cold chilly thrilling night, with the sky overhead and trees reaching up and up.
We look together, listening to the howl, to the lone howl to the north.
The alert little feral cats rub once more against my leg, longing for a handout on a freezing October night.
Look out cats I say. Don't be a handout to the lone howl to the north.