The silence of the muffled night is shattered by the scraping call of storm crows,

The "Plinking" heavy heat of sunlight plays a tune upon the fences of the park,

The violence of the storm in flight that clatters over gaping fields of corn rows,

Leaves the thinking man to ponder what is levied by the dragon in the dark, 

For from its jaws it spews forth fire to split and crack the muffled blanket,

And from its eyes such tears will fall that smash upon the ground and quench its thirst,

And though the pause between each flash of light will give the thirsty watchers cause to thank it,

With deepening sighs and building fears they know the tears will fall until the rivers burst, 

And when that weight of water breaks its banks and so untethered in the fields flows, 

And though the bone dry fields will try they cannot hope to stem its furious flight,

Every son and daughter that is huddled there together in the dark knows, 

The dragons tears will wash the pavements parched of water in their town tonight,

And when the dragon passes and the day comes,

And each emerge survivors of the squall,

The warnings of their forebears come to haunt them,

"When storm crows caw it's best to heed their call."