Tag: Tornado
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Collecting Beach Glass After the Storm
I never thought brick dreams could tumble in the wind. My wife collects our scattered memories in a undersized bin like a child on the tide line collecting beach glass and seashells. She listen for the sound of blood amidst the dying wind mistaking rustling pages for her breath cycling in and out, her pulse…
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On Seeing My Old Crooked Tree Uprooted After the Tornado
I loved this old crooked tree that refused to grow straight with the sky but willed itself to stretch with the horizon, limbs resisting what every oak near it wanted— to kiss the sun. It had a brother, long since cut down, its stump never uprooted, ground to chips. Decades of weeping, trying to…