The Aftermath of Hurricane Michael

As Michael approached on that early morning,

Some remained in its path despite every warning.

They’d been ordered again and again to leave,

But the grave dangers of staying they didn’t believe.

They died as their houses like trees were felled

They’d hid under roofs they thought could have held 

Against those gusting winds that came along

As accompaniment to Michael’s song.

Some just waited too long and they disappeared

when their cars or trucks rolled as we had feared

Into water far deeper or currents much stronger

And they just could not hold their breath any longer. 

Some stayed disbelieving all those warning voices

And others stayed in the belief they had no other choices. 

Many were lost as surging waters swept in

And washed them away with the beds they slept in.

Now dozens are dead

Who, having not fled,

Having just chosen to remain in their places 

Was that courage or dread that shone on their faces?

In sadness we learned of brave rescuers foiled 

When their valiant rescue attempts were spoiled,

Halted by a downed electrical line or a broken gas main                                                

Thence all efforts to reach those trapped were in vain.

From The Weather Desk (A View of Hurricane Michael FromJust Outside His Cone)

The numerous reports had grown more than grotesque

As meteorologists droned on from their desk.

There were winds that would drive the storm ahead,

With towns and roadways to be left for dead. 

The news was devoted to dire predictions

With hurricane cones and other depictions

Foretelling events and calamities

Like flooded homes and fallen trees.  

They provided portrayals of people as they fled,

Not knowing which wild disasters lay ahead. 

Storm surges, wind gusts and heavy rains, 

Loomed in the visions in their dark brains.

My sister reached out wondering whether

We’d been offered protection from all this weather

When of a tornado they issued a warning,

She was sure we’d be homeless the very next morning.

Ah, but we were granted much good fortune

Blessing and mercy were both in our portion.

The following morning brought nothing grotesque—

Just a few gusts of wind I’d call Chicago-esque.

Florence Redux

Some things don't remain the way they first appear.
Signature moves can later disappear.
So it is with Florence whose fearsome winds filled us with dread as it grew near
Today they say it's rain, and rising water, not wind that we must fear
And so it goes with Florence redux
Whose rising waters make peoples' homes more suitable for ducks.

Florence is Flying

The NHC
can often be
alarmist in some ways.

It sounds the alarm,
saying it'll do no harm
to awaken where it lays--

the hurricane emergency plan
and cause most every woman and man
to pack up and flee the storm's windy ways.

Only thing is Florence is being fickle
And into the air you might flip a nickel
Choosing heads or tails to plan your days

Even Florence knows not where she's going these days..

I’m Looking For An Equinox

No, not the Chevrolet—the one I want’s no car at all— 

For certain though there is, in fact, a new one every fall,

This long awaited equinox, 

That all my neighbors want so much, 

has less to do with cars and such

And more to do with clocks. 

All of us see them more than once, 

But unlike football they have no punts. 

This equinox of which I speak often is so cool,

It can make the “good ol’ boys” surrounding me just drool

That equinox by Chevy
Which can be so very heavy, 

Some blasts of cool air it may bring;
But we crave cool air from shorter days, not air conditioning

When it offers respite from the sun’s hot rays 

The equinox autumnal is our favorite down here.

You “Yanks” can have those warmer days of vernal spring,

 We’d sooner have some fresh cool air, than almost anything.

Fireworks And Thunder On The Fourth of July

Two nights ago it was the 4^thof July

We watched the fireworks, my neighbors and I

Everywhere the skies would brighten then ease

As the displays of others showed over the trees

Nothing odd about this, it appears every time

But the sounds, when they traveled from so many shows,

Kept striking my ears and led me to wonder 

They  sounded so much like a summer storm's thunder.

No Empty Well

Well you can't leave a well empty

the result looks unkempty

yes that rhyme was a stretch

but it will help me to sketch 

an idea that came to me early today-- 

I wonder have I been so long at play

that I might set out to amass and assemble 

a book of my verse that when piled up might tremble,

but would reach up so high 

that it just might resemble 

a poetry book full of verses

that fell from my brain versus

all that negative stuff that surrounded

me at times and almost confounded

yes a book of light verse just might be the thing

'twould be more like using one's brain to rehearse

these little ditties and block that virtual hearse

that feels at times like it's able to block out and bring 

a halt to all joy and delight that arises

from life at its heights--so full of surprises