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Storm Season

Spring is here again.
Flowers are blooming anew
And the fragrance spreads.

Often the rains fall.
The wetness soaks the gardens
And causes new birth.

Fecund are the soils.
The green sprouts appear and grow
With lively outbursts.


Winds blow, heat rises.
Feel the humid air around
As the storms approach.

Gather up the young.
Fear the loss of one's children
When twisters come near.

Basements are shelters.
Crouching down and holding on
To the ones they love.


Reports are coming.
They know what they may expect
And have seen before.

Some pray to their gods.
Stoics know better than this
That nature will win.

Knowledge can be good.
Accepting that science works
To forecast and warn.


Warnings pass to them.
Radios, televisions,
Give them the first news.

It is coming soon.
The tornado is nearing
They feel the shaking.

Trembling timbers quake.
Their homes their sanctuaries
Whilst the gales surround.


It lasts forever.
Thus it seems as they must wait
For silence to come.

Finally it ends.
Emerging from their safety
Devastation reigns.

Their trust is their strength.
They know that they will prevail
Always and ever.

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