Yesterday, the clouds were crashing. A twisted tree pointed to the fray, so proud of its discovery. The heaven's mumbled as what was once fluffy fell to its knees. Swords of thunder ripped through the sky like rocks through rice paper. The ground did not peep; so brave was its position, beneath an armor of history so thick and pure. A rabbit finds shelter as his nose twitches the news. Birds ruffle patiently behind eyes that seem to yawn. Forming a chorus of "this too shall pass", we listen for the sun together.