A semi-submitted poem, which is apropos to the violent storms that are devastating the Midwest of the United States:
Black crows, big as rabbits, pluck worms off the knoll at dawn. More unidentified flying objects perch in Hitchcockian rows on rooftops, on the edge of drains. Naive house cats will not be allowed to play on the grass today. Such is the world when turned upside down. Such is the world, I say. Gray clouds gather, whistling winds, raining over thirsting plains. Natures fire lights up the gray. Funnels writhe like unheld hoses, ominous monsters approaching. All children and parents and pets alike should stay out of the rain today. Such is the world when turned upside down, Such is the world, I say.
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