Where Ill Winds Blow Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I sat, in peace, in my recliner
and nursed a purple, blue-green shiner.
Across the hall the Maytag churned,
reminding me of when we turned
in the Tornado upside down,
not far from Penn State's Germantown.
We twisted until black and blue
inside an atmospheric stew.

As I observe the laundry spinning
I ask that you forgive my grinning.
The day that the Tornado whipped
my soldier's body, they were shipped
to Vietnam, where many died.
So this ill wind did save my hide.