It's blowing a gale outside. In the darkness of the night, gusts of wind are stretching branches till they crack. Inside we hear the whistling of the wind. It rattles windows, sneaks into the cracks and makes our house creak and moan. I am scared of this storm. From when we woke this morning until night time came, this tempete has been shaking our bones. It has blown this day from sunshine to grey hail to rain, dark inky clouds smothering the sky. The children sleep fast and I am too awake, too lively, too itchy, too much with this blowing wind. Perhaps I will join the storm, danse in the chaos of the freezing gusts of rain. Let the water beat against my skin and laugh as the sky groans. Or perhaps I too will snuggle under warm blankets and soft, soft sheets and drift into a dream. The gale outside is blowing, blowing, blowing. I hope that by the morning it is gone.