and the icy flay of the wind tears your skin and it cries "take me inside, sit me by the fire" and for a moment you remember the kind of day you spend indoors feeding the burner, asking the fire if it's belly is full and becoming aware once again how completely the giant black cast iron stove in the kitchen is your absolutely Most Favourite Thing and the big basket of logs next to it is your second Most Favourite Thing in all the world.
but your soul, screetching and crawking, thrashes her legs against your flanks and drives you higher and higher until at the top she lets out one more blood curdling yell and throws you into the arms of the blasting air.
And you cry - Hold me.
Throw me around the sky until you are tired of me and then set me gently down on the moor.
Put me under a rock,
to sleep til spring comes.