There’s something solid forming in the air,
And the wall of death is lowered in Times Square.
No one seems to care,
They carry on as if nothing was there.
-Peter Gabriel (Fly on a Windshield)
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother’s breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley