Whether the Weather Matters

Is it a question we should ask?  I visited the shore, without a sun.  The moonbeams did not come.   A fish flopped dying in the surf, not quite aware of where it flopped, I'm sure.

There is a penchant, to search for penchants, that finds itself, self-fulfilling.

And filling one's self is not to be done lightly; rather it is rather, everything delighting.

I'm sure that the weather will change;  or at least will show another face.   Perhaps one familiar, perhaps one we've faced, sometime in the past, that we've long ago lost.

It is a question, that  is worthless to answer, for the answer is known, for the cotton will not grow, or the lives will be tossed in the tossing flood, or the ooze will frost on the tops of the mud, or the soldiers with boots on will die in their blood...

Regardless, the weather matters, weather or not ...