As I was picking up the sticks in the yard left strewn all over from the freak thunderstorm that ravaged Massachusetts yesterday, my mind got thinking. I mean, what else are you going to do while you bend over repeatedly and pick up the smallest of all sticks? The fragility of it all. I watched as the storm came, observed its fury and intensity, and then it left, leaving blue skies and white puffy clouds behind. As if nothing had ever happened...
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