There is a kind of weather where you feel naked, floating in a warm bath.
A gush of wind imitates water as it brushes past.
Your fingers create rippling rings in puddles you touch
And in those moments, you can't help but notice the world is quiet and hushed.
Slowly you watch the ripples ebb to their limit,
And it reminds you that this world is merely a planet  
That waxes and wanes, and rushes like warm water.
But you know it's more than just nature to an author,
It's a place where wind makes you feel vulnerable and licks at your skin
and the rare occurrence of weather like this, renews life in your heart yet again.