Weathering It (Poem)

Hurricane Irene as Seen From International Space Station

Weathering It

Diane turned herself into a killer.
Donna mostly liked to spin real fast.

Agnes sported a meandering eye,
while Gloria raced herself across

Long Island, trying to act all natural
as she scooped up beaches in a hurry

to get to sea. Bob made off with a more
sparing touch, restraining winds offshore,

but flooding Floyd caused one awful rush
for higher ground even as Rudy took

command in the lower ward. Neither
Isabel nor Ernesto had fixed designs on

the living so far north, getting themselves
downgraded when they could have been

impressing their case on the city that never
ever sleeps. Big-girthed Irene, she's got

our attention now, promising she'll go
one way or the another, as soon as not.

Just don't take me lightly,
she's been telling us all week.

That tremor might have made earth
move and your buildings sway but me?

Please! I can make your day.

© 2011 Maureen E. Doallas
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The news today is replete with stories about Hurricane Irene. I even came across a round-up of excerpts from short fiction, essays, and novels about storms by Sylvia Plath, Joyce Carol Oates, and other writers of note and this scene from King Lear proffered in Irene's honor. The poetry's been a bit sparse, however; so, after reading one more New York Times article about New York City's history of weathering such storms (I have a vested interest; my son lives there), I wrote the verse seen here.

Feel free to add your own couplets in the comments section.