Blades spinning blending matter

To the beat of pʌt and patter

In cycles of to and fro

Upwards outwards it will go

In an endless vortex tunnel

Like an inverted funnel

Plasma dances in a loop

Down to up in a vertical hoop

Twisting, turning, roundabout

Well contained, does not vent out

With the rhythm of a split-time butterfly

Playing double-dutch, do or die

On the upbeat strong and loud

Then the downbeat soft and proud

With the song of a drone

Look up now, how fast it’s flown


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