The Hurricane Is Slowly Coming
The hurricane is coming toward the shore
at a meager seven miles an hour.
I can see it days before it arrives.
It feels like it is inching toward us, taunting us.
When it arrives, everything will probably be lying in devastation.
How can something that is blowing one hundred and forty-miles an hour be approaching in such a sneaky, way?
I stare at the sky, watching and waiting.
Holding my breath, knowing there is nothing I can do about it.
Man versus Nature, nature winning.
I give my house one last sorry look.
Before leaving with my children and about one hundredth
of what I wanted to save.
If I get my family out safely, what else matters, really?
I feel sorry for my house.
It looks so happy and sweet, sitting here, without concern.
Not understanding about hurricanes,
or what is going to happen in a day or two.
Our six-year-old collie is cuddled up in the back of the SUV,
among some of our most treasured things.
She gives me a loving look, making me feel better about my decision to rescue the things that truly matter.
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