There's a cold wind carrying ice and snow down from the mountains, when it hits your face it will cut you. The sky is gray, but sometimes will clear up and show a cold, dull looking sun that seems to mock with sadistic hatred. Every now and then birds will be knocked into buildings by the wind, I saw one bashed into an on coming car. Its tiny body spread as it hit the wind shield, it slide across the top of the car and fell off. It's fragile body almost split in half was crushed under the tires of the next car.

I stared at the twisted and blood covered body. The wings had been twisted out of shape and had large amounts of skin pulled of, the head had been smashed and the birds organs had been forced out of its belly. Snow started to cover the mangled corpse and soon all that was left was a red spot in an otherwise uniform snow drift.

Winter is an unforgiving season where the delicate beauty of nature and it's menacing cruelty are combined so strangely it brings lonely thoughts to one's head.

...

I just realized one of the best things I've ever written is about a bird getting smashed. =\