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Storm

September 27, 2011

Clouds piled up far to the west begin to toss lightning bolts at each other.  The thunder begins to mutter, then growl in the distance.  Slowly the storm stalks closer, the thunder cracks growing more insistent and relentless until I am in the basement of an empyrean bowling alley.  All of creation reverberates at the onslaught.

Suddenly the wind is stirred to violence and dying leaves rain in through the upper windows to dance on the tile floor below. The shutters crash shut, their iron lock bars rattling loudly against the window grilles.  Almonds, shaken from the branches of the tree that overreaches my round house pound the roof like hailstones.  The wind subsides and the rain begins with a vengeance, only to wear itself out in its fury and settle into a steady downpour.

The storm has ripped the sultry closeness from the evening, ushering in a cool freshness thick with the heady fragrance of soaked earth.  I will sleep the sleep of the righteous tonight.

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