Blue sky, no clouds; roastin'.
The river: waterless.
A sun that's a golden fireball, It's aye bonnie
Then, wee patches of black, rain ready clouds show
Wee whippy raindrops plummeting at breakneck speed
Volts of killin' thunder, wee sparks flee, every yin bolts for shelter
Afterwards, wailing like a baby
Winds screaming, louder than a banshee
Then a turning tube, a dizzy giant,
The world gets sucked up.
Rick Smith, aged 12, of Kelso High Transformation