Florence
Florence
Monday skies are a dusty blue,
The sun is skipping on rooftops and grass,
Though in the quiet of this suburban room,
Awareness is of Florence and its push to pass.
Just beyond the dawn, a few hours drive,
People are crying and wet and broken,
We must pray and act for our neighbors,
No judgment ever spoken.
And in the days, weeks, and months ahead,
Give and give, for it is more blessed,
Then study Harvey, Rita, and Florence,
Global warming may be the essence.
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