Nothing at all. Then he turned back to the job at hand. The rolling thunder cracks in the sky, As white scars flash and die. The grass whispers and the wind howls. The trees rattle and the raven prowls.
Wet dirt begins to soften the mud, As streams begin to trickle and flood.
My feet travel this lonely path. As the storm rages on, Unfolding its wrath. Black eyes watch from a tree. Watching or gazing, whichever it may be. The raindrops turn white and float, As water begins to freeze on my coat.