A cold wind flows over the cornfields; fleets of blackbirds ride that ocean. I want to be in that wild, be outdoors, live anywhere in the wind. I settle down, with my back against a shed wall where no one can find me… What is it that I want? Not money, not a large desk, a house with ten rooms. This is what I want to do: To sit here, take no part, be called away by wind. ~ Robert Bly (Photo by Jason Hetherington)