It was only a Category One.

But it was our very first hurricane, for the cats and me, so I dragged the giant, overstuffed armchair to the dual window set closest to the front door, pulled up the blinds, and the three of us settled in to watch the show.

There wasn't much to see. The most excitement happened on our back patio, when a catastrophic crash brought me running to find the patio umbrella and a few flimsy chairs had been upheaved and lay recklessly on the remnants of my better other's former carefully tended tomato plants.

Then I looked out the front window again as the rain thrummed furiously at every available surface, and the wind howled and raged at everything in it's path; and then I saw him. My reclusive, seemingly grumpy old neighbor, standing outside, in the midst of it all, face turned upwards to the sky, and his fist pumping into the whooshing air, akin to the likes of Lieutenant Dan, from "Forrest Gump", and the iconic storm scene.

It was actually the best part of the hurricane event, and I have held a special curiousity and reverent delight for that peculiar neighbor ever since. I recently discovered that he rescues stray cats and has an impromptu sort of kitty hospital inside his home. I'm pretty sure he's a writer. Oh, did I mention we live in a mobile home? Good thing it was only a Cat. 1. (;

Grand ol' lady on the grand ol' river

Water to the north, water to the south

Water to the east, water to the west

Gossamer veils hold it away

Mother nature fires

We dodge the bullet

Only to drown

From failed man-made murals of hubris

Noah is long dead

Saviors are rare in rising waters

Rescue only by ebbing's recession

Back into the wetted word whence it came

The city awaits the emergence of Jonah

Who will come with clefs--

--Alto, treble, tenor, and base

Embouchure applied to his whale's spout

In a water world

Sweet strains are the driest things

With handles to grasp and fix fast

So the songs will continue, sung

Once, not that long ago, there was a storm. A pretty big one, too. It was far off in the distance, and my sisters and I ran out to see it.

Lightning, then thunder. My sister counted. "Thirteen miles away," she said. We continued to watch the grey clouds, alert for lightning. It was beautiful, not the typical white but mid purple and pale orange and occasionally yellowish blue.

The clouds were turning darker. "Twelve miles."

Darker. "Ten miles."

"It's still far away," my other sister said. "We can stay out a little longer."

An orange flash from our right. "We're being surrounded," I said, both afraid and awestruck.

My other sister (the careful one) moaned. "We should go inside soon," she said. "But it's still so cool, so let's stay a little longer. Ten miles away."

Another from the right. "Ten miles."

Then a purple one from the left. "Eight miles," one sister cried. "We're being surrounded. It will come over our heads! We should go inside soon!"

"It's not on us yet," my other sister said. We stayed.

Another flash. "Seven miles."

"Five."

"Three. We should go inside now!"

"Not yet,"

"It's almost on is! It'll start raining soon!"

"But it's so cool!!"

She only stayed because i was out, watching my sister, and she was out, watching us both. Even though I am the oldest. Her loyalty is stronger than her fear.

The sky was dark, lightning coming, lighting up the sky. One sister stood with a neighbor boy (who was six at the time) and watched the lighting come.

Finally, she agreed to come in, when the storm was upon us. We turned and walked the direction of our home. There was no rain.

The sound of pouring behind us, growing ever louder, and suddenly there was rain. Pouring, starting from a simple drizzle, becoming a down rush in a second. We ran. Thunder still crackled, no seconds after the lightning this time.

We ran about, preparing for rain of the sudden storm. Soaking through, I felt like a peasant in a storm, middle ages, as I scooped leaves from a drain with a rake, sometimes bare hands. I ran the grill into the overhang and ran through a giant puddle.

I'd repeat the experience, given the chance.