poem of the day October 9 

The life

of a storm

lives first 

in human anticipation

Fueled by wild

speculation and fear

Permanating people 

living thousands of miles away

A fear that reaches a feverish pitch

Until the storm finally hits land

and opens like

an unwanted flower

Only then is the true

bloom of a storm revealed

Then in the aftermath

the greatness of the storm

either confirms our human fears or not

but either way Mother Nature's fury 

only needs a weatherman

not an echo chamber  

to know which way the wind blows