The earth succumbs itself again,
To the heavens,
Pulling the grass tighter to the ground,
The new leaves of the trees,
Wrapping themselves to the limbs, holding with tight grasps, pulling themselves down to the earth.
The clouds peel and roll in havoc, carefully orchestrated spins forward, by those close, and spinning ever so slowly, taking with them the breath of those who watch.
The windmill will always fight, will spin the blades and turn its head into the face of the storm, and shake from its feet so planted in the ground.
The sky will lose tonight, but will have a chance, again and again.
Ralph Peck
Photography by David Maxey
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