Like Deep Clouds Coming in off the Waters.

The slow-waking winds,
The long-slumbering summer.
It wraps me in caresses.
It is 49f in a mid-July night,
And my skin has found in it a home.

Still, I miss you Gulf Stream.
Mourn the missing push-back against
The affronting Summer Nor'easter Fronts.
Balance sent teetering, where the spinning
Hemispheres might topple over.

Still, the changes paint evenings
Skies full of textures,
Hues in navy and cobalt.
Such dangerous beauty, and angry weather

Struck in awe at some yet unfathomable
Deep-Change, just now floating at the skin,
But threatening to penetrate further in.