Wind is out there everyday obviously but not like this. Not this strong and when it's this strong, it plays the trees like an instrument. Speaking of which, I have 3 gigantic ones in the backyard. That part is kinda scary to think I could be sleeping one moment and wake up the next because my body cannot get air due to the punctured lung or branch sticking through my neck. Shit like that, when it happens in your sleep, you probably don't even feel the pain. Not until you come out of the slumber, when your senses finally wake you just to let you know you'll be dying in a few minutes. Course, the upside to that, and yeah, consider it an upside, is that you die instantly. Slow and painful should only be reserved for scorned lovers, rapists, murderers...etc. With the exception being the experimental sex act gone wrong.
Back to the wind. The gusts should only be, at tops, 40mph. And that's just fine with me. I stand outside in the warm summer air, feeling as though it's gasping for one last breath before the dynamic duo of fall and winter drive it back into submission, where, in my personal opinion, it should stay for eternity. But I digress. The wind blows hard and blows around me, pushing and gently nudging, teasing me as though it wants to knock me over. It's almost playful, because, in an odd way, I push back. Resisting the temptation to get a better stance, as if the rules of the game state that if you try to catch your balance, that's fault, and the Wind gets a point.
The wind pushes. It's the clouds who submit. Following the path they are directed in. As they do, you can see breaks in the coulds. Were there none at all, you can see, it'd be a pretty clear night.
My point is that I love this weather. It has always been my favorite. To walk outside and feel the push...the tease...the playfulness of wind. Just don't piss her off, otherwise she falls into the category of "scorned lovers".