Smell of winter in the air

As Typhoon Ompong slams our shores and ground, I can smell there is winter in the air. Cool winds rustled through the leaves of the bamboo trees in my backyard, whistling through the tiny holes in my amakan wall. But since I’m in the south, far away from Ompong’s path, I could only feel a rushing wind than the biting wind and rains that might have been already lashing at the people in the north as this supertyphoon makes a landfall. From TV images, villagers scamper in evacuation sites; they writhe in pain. I could feel their grimace and collective fear, that is choking them each time the bamboo branches scratch my house roof. I can imagine a macabre scenes after the onslaught, heavens forbid. When TV images from live news reports come, the swaying trees and bushes amid the endless rains brought by furious Ompong winds have me lurching against the couch and the hazy, drizzling images on screen bring darkness to my room that swallows me. Only this solitary light of my cellphone gives me hope and radiance to pray there will be twittering of joyous birds in ravaged lands the next mornings after.

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