November 1, 2013.
Wind howling, twisting around, through and over the tall pine trees.
Tall old firs twist, shake, sway with the changes of the wind.
I stepped outside, the cold icy air filled my lungs, touched my face,
 making me glad to be alive. It felt wholesome and pure.
The wind wound its way around me and chilled my skin through a thin blue tee shirt.
I was swept away with the damp chilly night air and the lonesome howl somewhere north.
The cats usually rubbing and winding, raised 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 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.