There's something sinister about a
wind that slides in after nightfall,
particularly if it's also the sort
whose whisper grows to a groan
by supper, groan grows to
a moan by bed-time, and
moan mounts to a shriek by
midnight.

Yesterday

A bread and milk day.
You know, like when the stock that your meteorologist has in Food Lion falls, so he says that there is a minute chance of snow and everyone goes out and buys five loaves of bread and three gallons of milk.
The kind of day that empties the kerosene pumps and drenches the masses in panic.
In other words, it was sunny.