They give the hurricane a pinwheel appearance.
These dense bands of thunderstorms spiral slowly
counterclockwise. They range in width from a few
miles to tens of miles and are 50 to 300 miles long.

Thousand miles east a deadly storm’s brewing
Moisture shooting up from the warm ocean
In the gray sky, thunderclaps and lightning
Soon the clouds move in circular motion
Faster and faster till at last an eye
Pinwheel, fast fearsome acceleration
Across rough seas, waves are forty feet high
Due west by northwest searching for landfall
Where folks worry not; and none seems awry
Funnel clouds and every minute a squall
Across five hundred miles width of the storm
Dark, ominous, nightmarish in its sprawl
Onshore the sun still shines, the breeze is warm
Be a while till someone sounds the alarm
Lo! A ridge of high pressure builds a wall
The arctic divine wind drifting southward
The pinwheel veers due north, to a slow crawl
To frigid seas; the hurricane graveyard
The jet stream rips apart its spiral arms
Its potent eye breaks, like a toothless shard
Benign, harmless; the pinwheel soon deforms
To a patchwork of rain clouds out to sea
And with three-foot waves sounding no alarms
On shore the sun shines and folks are happy
Grateful for relief, heavens they’re praising
From worries of last few days, now they’re free!
Alas! thousand miles east, a storm’s brewing
With torrential rain, thunder and lightning!
© Vic Evora 08-03-2020


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Robert L. Martin
3 months

Those were nice words, Vic, very descriptive.

3 months

Thank you Robert

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