winter wind

Do you ever feel as if cold is alive?

I mean a literal, creeping, breathing life force. One that has free will and can choose to nibble off your fingers in a fit of frost bite, or decide to simply pass you by, unscathed and unharmed.

I ask this question because, lately, I've been feeling as if the winter chill has some kind of intelligence. Some kind of internal brain with firing neurons and intelligent capabilities.

I know it seems silly, but if you've spent enough time in cold places, you might understand. The bitter wind is smart. It can find every crevice, every nook of your body that thermal fleece and jackets don't cover up. It can claw its way in to your clothing, curling icy fingers around your throat and limbs with uncanny ease. It can decide to blow at the most inopportune times, like when you're unloading groceries or trying to start a malfunctioning car.

I swear I've seen the winter air decide to bother someone. Knock someone over. Pull off a person's hat. Make them yelp in sheer frozen agony. Mischevious, often unkind things, just because it can.

Then again, the winter cold has some lovely aspects, as well. Those crystal clear nights, for example, when you can see all around you for miles. Or how pure and clear sound is, when carried on icy, still air. Even the way one's breath curls out like tendrils of smoke when words are spoken in the freezing daytime ether -- I love all of these things.

But yes, I still believe the winter wind is alive. It has a mind of its own.

It wants to eat you alive, but desires to play with you a little first.