These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Sky

The sky looks gentle from this view,
but what of way down south,
where the hurricane of heavy blue,
now builds upon the route?

Such fluffy clouds of cotton balls
dot white, dark gray, and float,
but when the hurricane’s ashore
some tree may dock a boat.

The sky’s a wondrous canopy
when all is well and blest,
but black skies in Micanopy
may harbinger the test.

The sky’s restored. Helene is past,
but Milton, now, doth trudge
to cause some fear of his real blast,
and stir the coastal “fudge.”

The sky so sweet in gentle rest
doth lull to nap time sleep,
but Tampa’s causeway sees a test
from fury of the deep.

Our sky may fill with clouds of rain,
some wind, and furtive brow
when Martin’s barque the beach doth gain.
His boast, “I am here, now!”

Oh, God, make ready all our lives,
that when the storms do come,
we rest in You, again to thrive
for every part, and sum.

by Jay O’Toole
on October 8th, 2024