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Monday, August 1, 2016

Dear Tornado: Don't Make Me Cry

What I can say to you, tornado, 
to see you grandmotherly slow, meandering the house across the way, sweeping up, breaking the wooden frame until soft in your arms,            
                               some might say you just know how to cook it up with love, some might say you just like to keep busy, some say you've earned sanctimonious  
Yes ma'am, to watch you, makes me want to pray... to understand your secret recipe
i think the bells and glory are going off, just like stationed sirens colored in the distance