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.
good one!
Thank you!