Some pretty bad storms in the area. I know at least 4 people were killed, and 14 are missing. In 1979, I was in the "most destructive tornado ever recorded in American history" and I can tell you there is a reason why that storm killed 43 people instead of 4. It was huge.
I was 12 years old. Our house was spared, but the damage zone was not very far away, and I think that event marked me in ways I don't think I can understand fully. We outran the storm on the highway, my father driving our 1978 Ford Thunderbird with my mother and one of her beauty shop customers, and her small child. My spirituality is a little odd, but after storms where folks die, I think a little haiku and birdsong are in order, even if they are a little mishapen. Storms are the terrible face of wabi-sabi, but make us aware of the derangements of arrangements in everything.
the storm has ended
in this damp morning mockingbirds
winds crisp turning funnel
pee ee olatri mulu
they cry the peace swiskur
skiwur young oleander dripping
the daintiest red bird
alights outside my window
soon followed by dun friends
now dove and grackle
greet the owl one
lone song bird sings
black twisted strands
are a home for tiny feet
sneaks ink wire dna
mournful owl who
echoes in our alley
old hands patting clay
for your concert
my wet assed yukata
coffee steaming in a skull
old dog who loves the sirens
singing like a baggy bird
were you out there all night alone?
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Irrony Observes The Earthing.