Written by Nancy Kelly Kunz. Photography by Lisa Atkins
On Long Beach Island the winter wind is
like no other wind you may have experienced.
I don’t mean the hurricane winds, or the nor’easter winds.
I mean the everyday,
in your face,
take your breath away,
hold on to the car door,
chase the mail down the street,
don’t even think of an umbrella in rain – kind of wind
It doesn’t come as a visitor, it’s a regular.
Knows its way around;
how to rock houses on pilings,
put white-caps on the bay,
and stand flags at attention.
At night, if you’re prone to insomnia,
when all should be quiet, you hear
it whistle through the bedroom walls
like a symphony flutist reaching for high C.
And when, just briefly, you think,
‘Not one more day’,
crocus struggle through sandy soil,
the island begins its move to summer mode
and the wind, that chafing winter wind,
becomes a soft, salt-air suitor, who
lures beachcombers across a five-mile bridge,
and welcomes them on hot summer nights
disguised as a prodigal, gentle sea breeze.
