It’s a yearning, and it’s painful. 

The saw grass blooms and the centipede ran so far it covered the sidewalk.

There were significant negative events, 

an extensive contagion,

a painful orchestration,

and a disaster that was for sale. 

The telephone rang, and a woman said that a storm was coming.

I told her not to worry. 

I have no special talent.

The sky is grim, reminding us 

that storms draw something out of us.

Costly and cleansing.


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