Knowing not how nor why,
It had moved across the sky,
Before stopping, very low,
Hiding a town in its shadow.
It was some cosmic spawn,
A grey cloud endlessly drawn;
Was it night, or was it day?
None could now hope to say.
The Sun sought the seen,
All the blue, grey, and green,
The lake, the hill, the tree,
Was He where He was to be?
The stars too felt a lack,
For none did now wink back;
The Full Moon dismayed,
Prayed, and briefly overstayed.
Beneath, folks looked on,
Would it now rain or be gone?
Without time, sans light,
Despair fighting their fright.
The cloud couldnʼt rain,
Would the flood ever drain?
Too bulky for the breeze,
It held itself just over trees.
Those living in the town,
Both unknown and of renown,
Would doubtless soon die,
Either all at once, or by and by?
The cloud couldnʼt rain,
Yet, had it forever to remain,
Eye the dead, dying, ill,
Aid and abet death, if not kill?
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