Gemotions

The gentle hum of the lawnmower, a low counterpoint to the birdsong, was the soundtrack to David's Saturday morning. He was carefully trimming the edges of his lawn, the sun warm on his neck, his mind untroubled. A violent roar, like a cannon blast, ripped through the neighborhood. David cut the engine. He looked up, his jaw dropping. The giant willow tree that bordered the property next door was no more. A mass of limbs and trunk now occupied the lawn, a scene of raw destruction. He stood there, watching the scene, not reacting with alarm, but simply taking it in.