The Chill
by Isabella Sinclair (‘21)

I am aimless
Searching
Eyes downcast and face shielded 
No one comes here anymore
No one stays
No one dares to tread
A rustle of foliage echoes every now and then
My thoughts become imprints like the lines in the bark of trees
If only I could trace the patterns
Winter has arrived and has brought its spite
Cold and harsh
A chill so sweet and biting that it makes me yearn for what I have yet to know
Why would I ever desire to stray?
Why would I want to steer my paces elsewhere?
I am content amongst everything I have ever grown to love all these years
The trees dot the horizon and outline the hollow sky
I will become both one day
The air will kiss me with its momentary comfort
Wanting to return to a home 
It will then whisper that this place is home
Breeze
Rustling everything in its path
I pull my disguise around me once more
I step carefully
Making sure not to disturb the branches