The wind presents a change, of course

Behind us, the days of battening the hatches, of tying everything down lest it fly away. Of course you never need to take my word for it; check the weather vane, consult the barometer — re-calibrate it for good measure — and feel the pressure on us drop as it rises on the dial. Come out, come out, wherever you are... throw open the storm cellar doors and emerge to throw caution to whatever remains of the wind... let it and yourself get carried away. Are you not as tired of tilting at windmills as I am? I want nothing more than for you to cast off your fear of the tornado's return, but for now it is seen plainly enough in your goosebumps at the slightest breeze, in the hairs on your arms raised and wafting in the air like a battalion of windsocks ready to alert you at the first tempestuous sign of a second reckoning of sorts.