I can feel the rain dancing,
Falling pitter patter, pitter patter
And I think
This is me.
It soaks through my thin summer shirt
And it whispers through my hair,
Tickling my ears
And brushing my lips like a soft, quick kiss.”
I can hear the wind whishing, whishing, whishing:
A gentle voice singing the most beautiful ballad.
And I think
This is me.
It tickles my eyes
And twitches my nose.
It brings that smell, that one that I love,
That smell of early spring, wet grass, and mist that hangs like an ever-present angel.
And I think
This –this –is me.
I was born in this weather,

And it was made for me.