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The weather vane was pointing eastward when we heard the sound
Of rolling thunder underneath the shed above the ground
The gentle breezes long ago had given way to rain
When moving in between the clouds we saw a shaking plane
As we looked up and stood upon the field that we had plowed
It seemed to stop and strangulate upon the darkest cloud
It made a graceful arching dive into a field of grass
Yesterday we found a purse today we found some glass