It means the weather isn't that briskly cold as yet, that the caresses of breezes along the collarbones - even wrapping around the waist as buttoning hasn't yet been enforced - is permitted. That is when the winds swirl upward and outward, taking with it the long tendrils of my hair, bestowing Medusa-esque powers, if only in appearances. This Medusa's antipathy for the mortal man is only a fluid and shifting one, never at any one time truly palpable. The snakes hiss in ecstasy of exposure to the intertwining of all elements and seasons at once; perhaps they have summoned them through the mind they are interconnected to.
Today was an olive green day.
