I suck at madlibs

Morning lit by a blue moon; irradiated the earth's first seasonal frost. I approached the lustre gingerly. Watson eyed me. He stopped to examine dead magnolia leaves, which set him a few paces behind, as he found me an oddity in a hat that was best to be watched from afar. My walk was silent until I reached the field. Flower bulbs beneath the ground were unassailable by means of thick rime. My paddock boots made a sonorous crack on a pine cone and I looked over to see a tabby cat lay idly between two white pine trees. I threw a strobile near to scout out that it lived, and it did. It ran away with such might that Watson didn't dare make it a game. Again, he eyed me.
      I suppose it's to be expected, I thought. I also think you look funny in a hat.
I returned home, made myself cream of wheat with honey, and ate it by the fireplace.

For me, Word of the Day has always been felicitous on the days that I've chosen to read them.

ameliorate \uh-MEEL-yuh-rayt\, transitive verb:
1. To make better; to improve.

Scarce territories of my innards remain cold. I feel a chill stir like they are empty tundras left only for icicles and lichen. Under rare conditions would I walk across that terrain. Thinking to write of it makes me feel hated, and colder. I so would like to take a handful of light to it. I'd curse it and release the warmth like a plague. The ice would melt and the dwarf shrubs would grow to something greater.

There are other places that remain warm and I curse them as well. I wish them to feel discontent and furious, yet they feel humbly loving.