Look At Me Spam Again

The people
They watch slowly
As the great, grey-white cloud moves quickly
Rushing across the bright blue sky

The photographer thinks
This will be a good shot
And he waits too, eager

And the light fights its way forth
The sun clawing at the cloud's side
Its bright rays pushing and tearing
Intense and blinding
Yet the people watch, fascinated

And suddenly the cloud is past
And the world is Massive Orange
Searing and gripping them
Too intense, too blinding for eyes like theirs

So they turn away
For dusk has come