He watches a great white cloud tumble across the valley
Viewed from his favorite hiding place
Perched in the branches near the top of a great oak tree
He feels the ground, the trunk, the branches, and the leaves
As they agitate in anticipation
With great empathy and in sympathy, he cries on their behalf
Watching the great white cloud turn black
Waiting until the final moment
When his Mother calls him home
He protests, but he obeys
She will not allow him to stay
She will not allow him to stay
She tells him when he returns tomorrow
His favorite hiding place will be gone
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