Constant thunder, but no blubbering - the clouds are dry,
dark, sultry; and the soil is crying out for alcohol -
A little drink of pink champagne or whisky sour cocktail.
No umbrella!
Squeeze out the plenipotentiary sopped-up water
and let the thunderclouds rip, and roar with delightful glee.
Birds and insects, in hideaway, humming softly, resting.
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