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Hurricane Francine Comes Ashore

 

The air hums electric, the clouds churn low in the belly of the sky  

The streets grow still, as the wind waits, trembling in its quiet  

Trees lean forward, eager to meet the wild breath that gathers  

I stand on the shore, my chest wide open, feeling the earth throb  

She is coming, she is roaring her arrival with white-toothed fury  

Francine rolls her body over the gulf, relentless and tender, both  

Her arms are spirals, her fingers grip the tides and pull them close  

I feel her in my bones, the great mother of storms, unbroken, whole  

She laughs, a low rumble, as she presses her weight on the land