This morning Michael and I were the only ones on the beach and the West Coast was at its fiercest (check out the photos below). I tested out some similes when I was sopping wet and icy cold.
Practising for our Holiday in the South Island
The hail was pecking at my face like sharp hen’s teeth.
The wind was whipping the black sand like it was burning black ash.
The wind was scooping the seam foam into dancing puffs.
My face was sore, my wet trousers stuck to my wet legs like wet flannels,
but I felt like doing a foxtrot with the waltzing wind!
Give it a go! Send me your weather similes or a poem to email@example.com. Include your name, year, age and name of school. You can include your teacher’s name and email if you like.