As the winds whipped their way around
The monstrosity hurled its wrath towards the helpless
Peninsula.
Less than a mile away, sport cruisers lie toppled in heaps!
Further North, roofs flung overhead!
Yachts are in the gas stations!
The floods have choked us dead!
Dear Sanibel, my beloved retreat...this beast has ripped your bridge,
Which held you like a newborn - to the loving mother’s breast.
Yet, the torrents are still ashore.
Though the eye has blown away.
For the calamities loom perpetually...
In this boiler room that we call “home.”
The motherland we have disowned.