I think we are gonna be friends

Lightning shoots up.
Those who are struck by lightning aren’t hit on the head
By an angry Zeus flinging bolts from his cloudish house.

No, they’re the unlucky few who happen to get in the way
Of a river of plasma as it escapes the grass
Toward the turmoil above.

It’s a scary thing to think
That they sky, all along, has been the victim
And the ground is the one who gets angry.