They often seem to rub apart
As when the prickle of the weather
Implies a thunderstorm will start:
The very thunder of dissension
Is fortold by lightning eyes;
The tears that fall out of suspension
Heralded by windy sighs.
The heated blasts of angry words
Are followed by the hail of fists;
In each case cautious cattle herds
Predict the change by being missed.
And as the summer squall blows past
So too these arguments don't last.
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