To the wind

Dear Wind,

What. The heck.

Okay, perhaps that was a little strong to start with, but seriously, it's 1:30 in the morning and you choose to throw your little tantrum now?
 You've been unhappy all day, I've gotten the hints. Doing all that crazy stuff with the clouds, whooshing and sighing and thundering about, and generally making it impossible for two would-be marshmallow-roasters to have a campfire without giving Smoky the Bear a heart attack.

So what's all the fuss? Why all the sound of waves crashing on rocks? Why the huge gusts that make me stumble {and, yes, fall} out of bed to crawl to the computer and check to make sure a tornado warning hasn't been issued while we've all been lying in our beds, cursing your noise.
 The radar tells me nothing, by the way. Simply that tonight is "Clear". I tell it to get real.

Wind, I tell you this: If you murder my little defenseless plants tonight because of your little pity-party or whatever it is....... I'll find you. And feed you in little pieces to rodents. That's how tired I am.

Sincerely,
 The red-eyed monster with frizzy hair and a bad attitude

P. S. Sunday when I wore that... buoyant... dress and you made my hair look awesome? Consider that another mark between us.