Waiting for Brenda

Considering where natural ends and un-natural begins, I'm taking a north breeze in the face, or would be if I sat outside. I'm thinking of tractors, three tractors in particular, three of fourteen or so in a book.

Judging by the size of the birds in this breeze, pigeons and gulls most prominent, they're doing just fine. Who needs more than a whiff of green beyond that parking-lotted, brick-apartment playground of theirs?

When friends arrive in the city, they carry threads of where they've been. Some of them have been outside for quite a while.

Air Canada Jazz lands about a mile west.

The wind makes us natural, there's plenty of wind around here.