In the wake of the storm, I still have power.

Well, not that kind of power.

Just electricity,  actually.

I ate like a son of a chicken butt tonight,

Conserving my body heat.

Or as the mad hatter said, in Dr. Strangelove,

My precious bodily fluids.

And so we go silently, into the dark abyss,

Waiting for the fury of the storm.

It was ominous, this morning:

A sun rise that almost cooked my goose.

Beautiful, but blinding.

And then the clouds started hanging out in the afternoon,

Teasing us, whispering,

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Ok, so here we go again.

Mother Nature, bringing us to our knees,

Reminding us that this planet really doesn’t belong to us.

We are visitors in a strange land,

Huddling together, in our boxes, we call our homes.

My best to all, as we endure another one of winter’s cruel jokes.

May we meet again, in a few days, if we are fortunate enough to have survived the blizzard of the Non Winter of 2016.

Ain’t life grand?






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