WHEN STORMS WERE PART OF MY SOUL (3-13-93 FLORIDA NO-NAME STORM MEMOIR)

 

Driving across the county

Wind and rain our only drug

Laughing and shrieking

In a buffeted Ford Ranger

Red to match our twin

Aries vital force

Didn’t take much for me

To fall into his manic madness

Speeding through the No Name Storm

Meteorologists missing the hurricane criteria

 

At Dunedin Causeway

Sheriff’s deputies took one look

At the wind surfer on the roof

Laughed at us

Sent us back home

Greeted by the vision of my son

Holding up the chicken coop

Teetering on high wooden legs

Like Baba Jaga’s cottage

Fairy tale come true

 

Being forty was fun

Fifty became the crossover

Threshold to fear

Surrounded by storms this summer

I try not to quake

At the dissonance of thunder

But after fifty

Bodies become vulnerable

Hearts alter their rhythm

Minds dwell too much

On helplessness

 

Still, when the next storm strikes

I’ll shake my fist

Under the bleeding clouds

And in howling winds

Scream, “Do your best!”

Bravado, stupidity, courage

Never too old to shovel it out

From the earth of buried treasure

And spend it …

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

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11 comments

  1. Great poem. I feel it! So many true lines here. I also experienced the storm surge with Hermine. I can totally relate. Your poem says it all. … such good imagery.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Reblogged this on poeturja and commented:

    Thought I’d reblog my poem about the Florida No-Name Storm to compare to my poem written about Irma the other day. Aging may bring about wisdom but it’s certainly more boring…

    Like

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