There is something soothing about weather. It falls and changes without regard. It wakes up in the morning, stretches its long arms and legs. It’s loud mouth, dry with sunset. It yells, screeches. Pours its feelings into an unforgiving hour. It gives itself a good, long, pure look in the mirror. Meditations. Calm and low, humming. It does not know where it is going and cares not where it has been. In a heartbeat, it’s directions flux. Present, is the weather. It asks from the moments and moves on through.