That poem by William Carlos Williams - the old woman (the narrator's mother? I can't remember) who says she's grown tired of seeing trees...

...This came to my mind when thunderstorms were tearing up the sky this evening, and I enjoyed seeing thunderbolts connected like veins on my hand suddenly flash in the dark sky...

The thought came to my mind that I've always enjoyed seeing lightning. And then the Williams poem came to mind. After that, I wondered if I'd grow tired of seeing lightning in my old age.

Internet watchdogs trying to pinpoint the interests of their target demographic please take note.
As well as other writers who steal ideas.