Yesterday's heat and humidity gave way to another thunderstorm, complete with lightening strikes that turned out to be very close to home. Up the block, an old tree, 40 years old, was upturned at the roots. It brought down the power line in its fall. Small deaths: leaves pulled from summer glory now shriveling up on the sidewalk, in the drive way. Branch chunks splintered from great oak trees. Darkness comes completely. Air conditioning noises are silenced.

Another Breaking Point. Consider. Small deaths of dreams. Births of new dreams, new peaks. Everything reflowers again. Prune and weed.