Brazen, insolent windy blow night and day. Windy say, 'I'll show you not to be so smug in your nice warmety old house, your thick socks, the candles, the doggies, the shiny food, the stuff, the bulge of holiday'.
Big mean windy blow all hours. Grows bolder by the minute. Growls and snuffles outside the walls. Spits and hisses and puffs and gets huffy when we close the curtains to its angry face. Huddle we do. Throw the not dry wood into the dying ember. Hold hands. Sing. Drown out the windy. In vain.
New crackles in the woodstove. Vague dreams. Distraction. Windy does that. Blows to racket the brain asunder. Gibberish. Blarney for scrabbledy words tumbling off the boards.
Night come. Purple, black, scar of night. To the bedddy by so. Sleepy heads. Nighty night. Toss into dreams. Turning back.
Topples crash. Something bumpy goes in night. Too dark, too purply black to see. Windy raging now. No starry eyes looking down. No sky. Roof broken. Line of frosting split, lifted by windy in from angry sea. Tossed onto driveway. Concretey. Prickly old mossy grey grows on edge, sea anemones from time.
Not worry, house builder smile. House will not fally down, will not toppley on your head. Wine for the builder. Zinny from Cali. Smileys then. Shakes of handies. New Year for house builder. Back in New fourteen. Bye bye builder. Door shut. Clickety lock snaps. Fire relit. Wood burn. Windy blows. Whistles and roars and barks and slaps and glideys and growls. Our housey survives. Clever housey to bend to windy, to welcome windy as old friend, passing through across wet boggy. North. Godthab. & Beyond.