As mists start to gather,
They hang in the air.
They soon get condensed,
And become hard to bare.
Their weight is felt strongly,
By the foolish and the fair.
A few moments later,
A spark ignites like a flare.
It flashes and strikes down,
Like anger in the air.
And now that the thunder bolt,
Has found its expression.
The air becomes clear again,
And goes on in procession.
