Wednesday, July 16, 2014

The Thunder in these Sierra Nevadas is like…
nothing I’ve ever heard before.
It rips apart the sky, groaning over the mountain tops with nothing in it’s way to soothe it’s anger.
It's a sound as if the Union Pacific locamotive with four engines pulling eighty cars,
the one that usually glides calmly through the center of town,
has instead decided to plow through your living room,
belching white smoke and coal dust.
It rolls through the walls and into the dining room, in exactly the way trains normally don’t.
It makes you wonder if you have pissed off God recently, and he, or she…
is coming to get you.
Then the hot air turns pleasantly cool and rain drops the size of grapes splatter into the dirt,
filling the air with that smell that only rain can bring.
Then the lightning and thunder wander aimlessly away over the pass,
leaving you with that feeling you get when you have just had a really good cry.
When your emotions are finally spent,
and you are thoroughly satisfied.



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