Winter Blues

In the absence of the car's running motor and the fans blasting heated air to offset the chill in the air, the silence sounded startlingly loud. That absolute quiet that you can only find on a winter night when everything is sleeping or dead. When the whisper of snowflakes settling on the ground is audible, along with the faint sounds of the blood sluicing through the veins in your ears.

And in that brief stillness, just before you break the silence by inserting the key into the lock on the front door, before the zen-like moment has passed, you hear the faint, mournful cry of a hunting owl.

( A brief synopsis since my last post. )