The weatherman rolled up his sleeves,
pulled out of his hat
a perfectly normal day
without curfews
partially cloudy
with singing at the sink
mud-covered children
dirty bathtubs
doing taxes and calling our parents
potatoes fried in cast iron
and pecks on the cheek
no worries.
Storms raged other places
but the hills stood up for us
and turned our wild to
normal,
for once,
sweet, unexpected, and welcome.
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