We waited for the killing winds
tucked beneath our shrouds of ignorance
we listened to the heads speak endlessly
waiting on the second coming
in too many years
and still we wait.
The night of force belies the truth
prepared yet once more wondering
is it for naught
when the boy who cries wolf
one too many times
do the sheep move aimlessly after awhile
searching out the tender clover
of the darkness to come.
When fables repeat
and the record rewound once more
and then again,
again we wonder as the skies grow dark
and we wait for the windows to rattle
and receive a whispered breath,
we say our prayers to others
not so lucky
for they will be the ones
who hearken the coming of the next storm
for living through
they know what the simple reminder is,
in life the gratitude knows no difference
and darkness unearthed
will pick aimlessly
where the wind blows.
A photo I took the day after Hermine blew through…pigeons and seagulls united on the shore, watching the waves smash in and out, turtles nests torn asunder and children meandering in the edges of the waves while the was ocean closed for business, warnings unheeding as the red flag gave warning, I gathered memories of my first hurricaine and walked away.