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The wind picks up, signaling the coming rain.

The thunder rumbles in the distance, flashes of light scatter across darkening skies.

The drops begin to fall. Harder. Until sheets of water pour from the heavens.

Where there was hot, muggy, stifling heat, now there is a cool wind. 

There are broken limbs and puddles in the aftermath. Some lingering clouds.

And the sunset. The vivid pink and purple and orange paints a picture of paradise on the skies.

The kind of sunsets that only come after the storms.

In the midst of the storm there can also be peace. While chaotic winds seem ready to sweep away all they can, there are some things that stand still. Unmoved. Steady. Strong.

They take the rains and soak up the puddles. Nourish themselves from what the storm gave them. 

They are stronger now. The skies are clear again. The world is washed clean. 

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