Nature’s Sister is the windy temptress
and under sky, the clouds, they are her hair.
I know Nature’s Sister; she is Tempest,
and her fingers move you as wind or air.
She knows not your name, and yet you know hers.
The Weather, she calls you, if not by name.
Indifferent she stands and yet you have heard;
you listen to her because of her fame.
Her voice is demanding. She speaks to you.
Without second guessing, you give her your heed,
no matter that her words may not be true.
You bow to her want and cater her need.
Nature and Sister, they go together;
to you she is Queen, I call her Weather.