a flash lights the bluish-grey mist-filled sky as another speedily follows it, causing the people in the room to stop their banter and simultaneously turn toward the window.
everyone knows each other's thoughts, but none speak until the understood alotted time.
an enormous cluster-fuck of sound fills the sky as many of the people in the room hear the season's first clap of resounding midwestern thunder pierce and rumble everything in sight.
"huh, that one was close," one of them says.
thus the cycle continues while accomodating evolution itself.
gone are the days of "looks like the drive home'll be slow," and "ya, i heard duluth's gettin', ya know, like 21 inches... geeze."
ushered-in are the days of "yeah, dat thunder woke up the dogs last night... had to take them out to go... ya know," and "wow, shure looks nice out there, wish i was bladin' around the lakes."
green replaces white.
sunblock replaces scarves and gloves.
the trails replace the gym.
and beers on the porch replace wine in front of the fireplace.
life as we know it, once again, moves outdoors, where we become one family enjoying the beauty of earth's majesty.
then the fucking mosquitos come out and make us all wish it was winter again.
*sigh*
the circle of life continues...
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