The weather vane was pointing eastward
When we heard the sound
Of rolling thunder underneath
The shed above the ground

The gentle breezes long ago
Had given way to rain
When, moving in between the clouds
We saw a shaking plane

As we looked up and stood upon
The field that we had plowed
It seemed to stop and strangulate
Upon the darkest cloud

It made a graceful arching dive
Into a field of grass
Yesterday we found a purse
Today we found some glass