The calm before the storm,
is like an island of solace in time,
savoring the quietude indoors.
Fifty-six miles north of here,
the edge of the hurricane’s path
will extend its potential to shear
off the fronds of the palm trees,
where I reside with my mother.
—– —– —– —–
A reminder of the inner storms of life
that seem more palpable, and real
than the force that will ensue, rife
around this time of year.
In two days from now,
the flag at the beach will be red,
and my boardwalk views curtailed,
unless I decide to brave the storm
to come, as I do every day,
regardless of the weather.
©2024 Tzvi Fievel all rights reserved
holy scribbles 