The dreaded thing I anticipate.
It hovers like a thunder cloud--
A veil of gray, a funeral shroud.
The air is thick and hard to breathe,
And worries round my head enwreathe
My fears which only multiply
Like billowing blackness in the sky.
Then in a moment I hear a sigh
Of wind in motion passing by.
All that I thought would bring me grief
Was nothing--I embrace relief.