Fire Island Poet, Jay O
The Effects of Hurricanes
Through the glass of a Fire Island shack
I watch my hurricane garden
Brave waves of rain as nonstop as the wind.
Refusing to evacuate, I stay
To lifeguard all I plant and sing to.
Nothing is allowed to drown.
A rose cane whips in frenzy
Like the sea three hundred barefoot steps away.
Turn left out the gate for the scary scene.
Watch rows of catapulted waves explode the beach
Where yesterday colored bathing caps rode
Wild like zinnias do now.
But even weather changes.
Trees calm themselves.
Birds notice, trill.
The wind circles, dies, and flies to the sun.
Is this the end of the hurricane
Or the eye of the storm?
The storm is gone,
The sea is in place,
The dunes held,
The sweet pea did not shatter.
But the ordinary returns too soon.
Low pressure systems of hurricanes
Enhance the brain. Blame that.
For I do not know now what I want.
There may be an ocean of us,
Restless, seeking in calm or storm
Something as random as wind,
Predictable as rain.