Hurricane Ike Poem by Linda Gantt

We heard the command: 'Get out while you can.'
Should we go? Should we stay?

Almost gale-force lustful winds,
further decried a dire decision- to be made and soon.

So we boarded windows and doors,
lest Ike become too damaging-damp.

With red wheels packed tight- Kitty had his niche, too,
away we drove into the crowded dark night.

Oh, what a hindrance awaited us,
inch by inch, by slowest of inches we plodded.

Eight long hours on the road to safety.
Finally, overtired, our haven we spied.

Praise and thanksgiving we tendered,
as we blessedly reached succor and sustenance.

'Thank you, dear ones, for your care of us,
for your love truest and abundant.'

Wearied, we lay down on pillows soft,
but total peace eluded us.

Our world back there?
Would it stand stalwart and tall?

Rejecting flooding waters and marauding winds?
Never allowing entry into its strong domain?

Three days later the answer we found.
Though some wind-mischief we saw, Ike could not destroy.

Neighbors- now working together; cleaning up together.
Expected, appreciated so, in times of nature-need.

Good-bye, Big Bad Ike.
Failure is thy name!