(This was the first poem I decided to save for posterity. Suggestions for a change of title are welcome!)
When it begins to drizzle
Before the clouds sizzle
With lightning and thunder,
Doesn’t it make you wonder
How the weather could be so pleasant?
That ephemeral twinge of dampness,
That joyous touch of coolness,
Tangible, yet evanescent,
The sky, translucent,
With sparks of blue
In the gray misty ocean.
The ground is covered with spots
Due to the falling raindrops,
Vanishing as soon as they appear,
Only to be replaced by others.
Then the Gods show their anger;
The heavens roar with thunder,
And send forth bolts of lightning,
The experience is frightening.
Mercifully, finally, thankfully,
The sun appears in all its golden glory.
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