Drinking Mead in Roosevelt's Horse Stable

A slightly moldy window view
With a blowing fern in the wall outside
Stinging rain plummeting the exterior bricks

It seems I'm the only one here this day
I guess that makes sense
Most sensible people would stay at home

It is, after all, a day for hurricanes
And that has brought me to this place
Where I can drink and remain detached

My swirling orange blossom nectar
Belies the wet chaos screaming outside
And howling through my Florida home

I'm really just on the outskirts of Matthew's rage
Others will feel his vengeance more than I
I'll just drink mead and witness it all

The floor above me has revealing gaps now
In Theodore's day, it would have been a brothel
How many climbed those rickety stairs

I can imagine the dusty road outside
The smells of horse and hay
The tension of an upcoming Cuban battle

Ybor still reeks of that defiant outpost
The brick walls ooze with its presence
The last stop on the way to history

I can't shake these feelings of déjà vu
Maybe Teddy's troops still haunt this place
Or, maybe, things haven't changed at all