Monday, September 26, 2005

Hurricane Season

Seven weeks left they say
Not I, I counter, I have had enough of this
Swirl of despair wrapped around its deceptively calm eye.
You might say she has weathered the storms well-
Ignoring the evacuation orders.
But numb acceptance of the inevitable
Is not a disaster relief plan when
The next gale is headed this way
Levees already damaged and needing repair.

I am sorry but
Next when you turn to me for shelter
You will find this time, my windows have blown out
Now boarded up and
Me, fleeing
Before my hopes, too, are swallowed by the gulf.

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