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
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: September 11th, 2024 11:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Whoa! I never knew a herricane could be rendered superbly and in such fashion as this beauty! Wow! Impressively rendered to effect with such details as effectively illustrate to perfection the idea. Awesome! I love it! Thank you for sharing.
Thanks Missy, I have lived in New Orleans my entire life and have survived many hurricanes, but the anxiety ramps up around landfall.
Yep, I'll bet. But you far surpassed any expectations with this awesome rendering. Thank you again.
Amazing
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