Tornado Warning

The children play on bright grass as thunderheads bisect the firmament above into a woolly yin-yang of June calm and its own unrestrained mobility. Under this semi-swollen sky, in that perfect moment of spectral magic, the world’s colors seem imbued with charisma.

An unremarkable orange bucket, brightly bland in the sun’s full glare, is a squat message of fluorescent defiance; it mingles with the scent of Rosemary whose smell comes easily on the back of this sluggish air.

A tonka truck, all but forgotten for the moment, is canary yellow in the freshly mown grass, and seems to hum with a nervous energy of its own.


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