The Wind on the Roof

Last night, I heard the winter wind bang loudly on the roof. No scurrying mice, only the sudden billowing of curtains. Or perhaps a spring-clean of bedsheets, all fine in the sun. What fun! I went out to have a look and it was so cold I thought cucumber slices were wedged behind my ears. The wind swept itself gaily around my feet like a feathered brush of ice. From somewhere, a curlew quarreled with an icicle.