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Se came... She saw... She devoured.... A wind-song dirge. |
| SO SUNG SANDY Southern is another hemisphere. The sun would Wave goodbye from here, but for the cloudy October duvet where Sandy, wanton, has had her way. Watching from an armchair out on the porch ponder pre-victims, "What is in store?" Lights in the night take leave of the breeze. Trees dance erratic then fall in the streets. A Cleveland fridge pauses in thought, "From somewhere close should ice be brought." Like blankets and pillows in nightmare fight the city, its' people, flood in fright. Her tidal onslaught bathed in ardor taken cowering surrendered seashore. Menacing waters then perilous peer at dark and empty windows fear. Sad losses are in aftermath hung as the song of Sandy lifts unsung 'pon the shriek of wind and cries of rain to be forever so sung again. |