The wind is more than blustery today. Each gust makes the trees look like bony fingers trying to fervently scrape the clouds from the sky. The flurry of snow left on the road is slithering, snake-like around the tarmac. It even blew my béret off my head, and blew it through the air Mary-Tyler-Moore-style.
I am not fond of the chaos this despicable wind brings. You can blow away any time, Mr. Wind.

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