As lightning brights the meadow
And thunder dulls the air;
I feel it still,
A stormy chill,
An aura everywhere.
I wander o'er the pathway
And paddle through the rain;
My bootheels squash
The squelchy wash
Along the puddled lane.
My face refreshed with teardrops
The clouds have wept from high;
They gently wet
My eyes, and yet,
They barely seem to cry.
I dance on midst the moisture
The hail...
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