PROOF TO rain and wind and sky, Rearrange me, that’s the why. Split in two, both halves are true, The answer hides in plain view.

The kind from Brussels are not the most favourite on the planet, although some say that roasted they're not half bad.

I reflect the heavens down below, born when storm clouds overflow. Step too near and watch me sway, as ripples steal the sky away.

A term of endearment for a rugrat or baby. A term for emergence, for botanicals, maybe. Or appearing suddenly like developed space. Or if you prefer, a beard on your face. In essence referring to something new. What's the word I'm referring to?

In the scorching heat in the desert I'm seen in the distance. But alas you can never reach me.