There is fresh snow on the lawn outside, not enough to break out the shovels. I am certainly thankful for that.
It's hard to get free from old habits. (Just ask any old order nun. I know poor joke.) I find it harder to write free style than when I counted and rhymed. I find myself going back and reworking my writing. The following I tried to write free style. When I was finished, I noticed most of the lines were ten to twelve syllables and several rhymed, so I was lured back in to get them all to twelve syllables and to rhyme. (I've found it is easier to expand a verse than to compress it, so that is why all are twelve syllables.)

Yesterday the wind was a wild beast of a thing
Clawing at the doors and at the windows whining.
Talons bared, it tossed things on the front porch aside.
It scattered table and chairs. I heard them collide
No ice, no snow, just the wind blowing and growling
It marched all around my house swirling and prowling.
Its claws tore the tarps covering my stacks of wood.
In fury it shredded them, ripping what it could.
Wickedly, it flapped the corners like wagging tails.
Lifting, shaking, and worrying the tarps like sails.
The garage door rattled as the wind tried to break in.
Cold fingers probing and seeking the warmth within.
Prying at the door's sides and whining at the cracks
Pushing, ever pushing, to shove it off its tracks.
The wind cried in the chimney,rattled the down spout
Like a caged animal, it shrieked and raged without.
It made house walls quiver in its terrible rage.
Battering everything, seeking to engage.
In frustration, it would finally slip around
Upset it would make a horrible shrieking sound,
Tearing at the electrical wires and tree limb
The power would flicker off and the lights would dim.