Hurricanes of the North

Hurricanes of the North

When I was a child, we’d hear tales of storms,
That ripped up the Deep South, leaving people to mourn.

We were always so sure that our cold water’s shield
Would stand as a bulwark, make all those storms yield.

When Hortense came in we were stubborn and brave,
Until where I’d see grass, I only saw waves.

It was just a warning of the troubles we’d paved,
But from this small storm, we never saw graves.

When Juan came crashing upon Halifax shores,
It changed our minds, what we knew was no more.

A slab of concrete weighing thousands of pounds,
Tossed back from the harbour that the tidal surge drowned.

Upon that concrete was a bench bolted down,
On that bench sat an old man looking ‘round.

Did that old man stay there throughout the ordeal?
Well, I doubt it was so, but that was just how it feels.

We’d hoped North Atlantic would keep Dorian at bay,
It was old when it reached us, just like Dorian Grey.

It may have wrecked havoc when it flew through the South,
But it still crashed upon us like a shout from God’s mouth.

Now Larry it comes, did we learn from our flaws?
That the cold North won’t save us, from the hurricane’s maw.

Since the cold North we trusted, though the ocean still warms,
It no longer saves us from the anger of storms.

When I was a child, we’d hear tales of storms,
That ripped up the Deep South, leaving people to mourn.

Now that I’m grown, I see the world that we’ve made,
We’re in this together, a people to save.