It’s been a blustery night of flying debris
Even at this storm’s periphery.
The fronds outside are whisking in the rain,
In joy, perhaps, or briskly to complain.
Although it’s morn, the sky’s still hazy gray
And hope is slim we’ll see the sun today.
But happily, we can just hunker down,
No need for us to be out on the town.
The power’s on, the lights and AC work,
And I can put the coffee on to perk
Then blithely sit to write my morning verse
While thinking, “Bad—but things could sure be worse.”
Well, here’s one sonnet done (the couplet kind)
So, let’s see now what else may come to mind.