Nature of the Beast (pt 3)

Scatter, scatter the clouds hated,
The arduous fingers of the sun,
Which pierced the billowy vapor,
And broke through their gloom,
Giving a warmth beneath them.
The clouds gathered and grumbled,
Reigning in their breathless, veiled towers,
Seething with superbolts of contest,
Rioting in the solar gilded light,
Only to fracture and dissolve away.

 

TA009784.cdr
Image Credit: NASA/JHUAPL/SwRI
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