The Wind

The only weather element I hate is the wind.

Oh how I hate the wind. And I don’t mean the nice breeze that blow by and tickles you in the Springtime. I mean the howling ripping destructive mean bitter wind that comes around at the worst times, coldest times, rainiest times.

I hate how it knocks stuff over.

I hate how even the sound makes me cold as does thinking about the animals out in that cold wind and me hoping they have shelter enough.

I hate its callous cruel shredding tossing ways as it vandalizes tree limbs and sheers off doors everywhere, laughing as it passes.

I hate the goose bumps I have from a draft that the wind is forcing in through a crack somewhere and teasing my wind hate on the tops of my thighs.

I charge the wind with the crime of reminding me of my lack of insulation.

The lion roars outside and I begin my wait for the lamb.

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