 | | 09/08/2015 17:11
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
august thunderstorms
For the last few days of July and the early parts of August, clouds stuffed with thunderstorms have been hanging over the hilltops and pouring southward onto the earth where people grow gardens and birds take their baths. I run outside when the wind starts howling like a wild dog. I hide my flower pots underneath trees, stools, and makeshift shelters. I watch the hail come down like a war of words, dancing and shouting at the hearts of those who hear it. "When will it stop?" neighbors shout from their porches. "Bring the car in, close the windows, goodbye flowers, goodbye vegetable garden." You'll hear their lament, you'll hear the thunder, and if...
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