With thunder and lightening, a harmonic duet,
    I am in my ballet slippers ready to practice
            a favorite song, "Into White."
 
   The garden is accompanied by howling wind,
        shaking the tall curtainless windows.

 The spider is motionless in the corner on the wooden floor.
               I see her in a bolt of lightening.

Cat Steven's voice is perfection, made more perfect
         with the lyrical river of rain outside.

      I'm wondering in passe as I slowly move
         my arm up curved above my head
    how you can question the existence of God.

      Would you like a pair of ballet slippers?