Doctor Grandma

The silence is deafening
I lie here thinking
where the homeless go
in a hurricane,

Tonight there is hardly
A sound or a chirp,
It is as if they sense
The coming dread,

We all await
The power unleashed
That soon will blow
above our heads,

The size of 3 states
Nature’s fury
She churns the waters
Reaching out her arms,

“Rest assured,
I am coming,” she says,
“I will turn your way
Into the South,

I will release
My endless waters,
The winds I have
Will scream my name,

And you will know
When I am with you,
And when I leave
Your world is changed,”

And so we wait
These endless hours,
and birds now sing at break of day,

I bring my plants in from the porch, and wonder
Where the homeless go
In a hurricane?

            cfblack              awaiting Florence 09-13-2018

This entry was posted on September 13, 2018 at 8:56 am and is filed under poetry, weather. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.