Stormy Afternoon, by Norbert Kovacs

Winter Chaos, Blizzard by Marsden Hartley (USA) 1909

Stormy Afternoon 

The wind swept in circles amid the tall pines before the mountain. The head of the large tree in front of us bowed and shook a long time. I was impressed seeing it sway and thought the tree must be very old to be that tall. The forest had many tall trees I found.

My friend Tom complained of the cold when the wind blew again. He hated to feel it pass through his wool cap and get at the bare patches on his scalp. It made him wince and hunch at the shoulder. "We should keep moving," he said and pushed on without me. With the next gust, the snow blasted down through the boughs. The flakes came thickly, and there was no looking through the cloud it brought. I had to pause as I stepped after Tom to let it pass. Then the air held gray, clear and quiet.
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I loved the quiet in the storm as much as the gale. Either could not be great without the other. I wished I could have said it to Tom, but I know he would not have welcomed hearing such things. He was trudging onward, head bowed, hoping for the indoors. I followed as the wind whistled again. Above me, the mountain loomed large and blue. I thought of it with the kind of comfort one feels in admitting one's smallness.

Norbert Kovacs

Norbert Kovacs lives and writes in Hartford, Connecticut. He loves visiting art museums, especially the Met in New York. He has published art-inspired stories in The Ekphrastic Review, Worthing Flash, and Timada's Diary. His website: http://www.norbertkovacs.net.