Weather, pressure, hot and cold,
Swirls around in the heavens until it gets old,
Tumbling down across rivers and streams,
Through mountains and valleys, canyons, ravines.
Painting the clouds with a paintbrush unseen,
Whistling and howling, of where you have been,
Of all of the elements, I've always loved you,
It's because of the unity you often imbue,
A thundertorm isn't the same when you've left,
When you're there all the poise is indeed so bereft,
But gusty, blustery, flustery wind,
When you strum up your fury,
We best not be thin-skinned.
Copyright 2013