In the few fleeting moments after the rain,
One can look out to see the world washed clean,
Scrubbed of iniquity and dazzling, pure as glass.
Looking up, the heavens are mud, dirty with gloom,
As if the sky and the earth have traded places,
Just for a moment, before we sully it up again.
The cleansed land breathes anew,
And I– I breathe it too.
The Original Oxford Comma 