November 7, 2012

He started to pace and stew, mumbling and rumbling on about something.

Swirling and stirring sharp cuts of air in his wake, looking up at a glance to the grey shroud above him.

He pushed on his heel, spinning around trailing chimney swirls of a cold autumn day. Soon he would go for a stomp and shake it out of his system.

The snow started to slowly float and cling to the green blades of grass.