Wind buffets the hilltop;
 I lean into each step,
   Bracing against the blasts.

My jacket snaps like a flag
   That waves in the wind
      On a tall pole. 

At times, I feel light on my feet --
   Disconcertingly so --
      As if a few more miles per hour
         Of windspeed and I'll be airborne.

I curl my toes in a futile attempt
   To grab the lining of my shoes,
       Shoes that aren't solidly affixed 
       To the ground in the first place.

The boulders on the hilltop
   Channel the wind:
      Speeding it up,
      Swirling it in eddies, unseen,
          But which attempt to swing me 
          About - square dance style. 

I will be sore tomorrow or the next day --
   Sore in my core and in my feet,
      And I'll wonder why...