Wind of change

Thunder came unexpectedly in the night. Rain beat the bedroom window.

This morning frantic clouds tore across the sky, bright-edged but dense at the heart. Cool air from the kitchen window spilled pools through the apartment. Scurf of pale leaves clattered along gutters. Traffic churned the maelstrom like a vision of a caravan in desert dust. Wind howled over the roof and around corners, a sound like a mighty rope drawn. Trees waved limbs in mad denial, leaves shining and damp, grasping last warm rays of sun.

At the gym, the radio said tens of thousands of Ontarians were without hydro this morning, fallen branches to blame. Crews were working to restore service.

The gym was strangely quiet. It's been that way all month. At lunch hour, there's no one vying for possession of the weights. The club has started staying open 24 hours. Does everyone exercise at midnight? After a hiatus, abs and calves raise the most fuss getting back into shape. But after seven workouts in less than three weeks, I'm finding the groove. In the wall of mirrors, my shoulders reveal lines of definition reappearing.

The skin bears a golden remembrance of summer. Soon it will vanish.