Friday, October 7, 2016



                 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.