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A POEM ABOUT THE WEATHER BY THOMAS EMMON PISANO
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AT STORMS END
Where seas and steamy oceans meet,
brewed by endless tropical heat,
those mists begin to settle.
The swirling passions of hot and cold,
churn the waters and make them bold,
those whirling winds of God’s creation.
Sweeping breezes turn steady wind
the rising of the heat below within
pulls steam into the sluggish dynamo.
Cyclone dormant is now ignited,
sweeping seas all churned, excited, white,
lighting fork with thunder bright.
A blast of stinging salty brine,
make sure all ships are warned in time,
a course is changed before the danger crosses.
Vessels, lives ended by the force and strain,
all resources track the child of sea, wind, and rain,
as it moves into our world.
We dread its strength, pushed by steering winds,
this power becomes a thing alive within,
it is tolerated but not ignored.
All living things wait for the danger’s past,
praying for the all clear at last,
the beast has past our home un-touched.
Five thousand miles away you’re born,
a baby as a tropical ocean’s storm,
to begin your monstrous life anew.
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