<p><b><i> Irene</i></b></p> <p><i> No turbines in the Sound yet</i></p> <p><i> wind makes its presence</i></p> <p><i> felt the old-fashioned way</i></p> <p><i> my old Vic of a house</i></p> <p><i> rocks and sways with gusts</i></p> <p><i> blowouts of freed-up energy</i></p> <p><i></i></p> <p><i> Plants take up residence in </i></p> <p><i> the safety of inside next to</i></p> <p><i> hammock, porch chairs and grill</i></p> <p><i> tables fend for themselves</i></p> <p><i> bushes and shrubs wear Wilt-Proof</i></p> <p><i></i></p> <p><i></i></p> <p><i></i></p>
Irene
No turbines in the Sound yet
wind makes its presence
felt the old-fashioned way
my old Vic of a house
rocks and sways with gusts
blowouts of freed-up energy
Plants take up residence in
the safety of inside next to
hammock, porch chairs and grill
tables fend for themselves
bushes and shrubs wear Wilt-Proof
They call you Irene, odd
nom de guerre for a goddess
of peace––not so strange if
the idea of those outsize
pinwheels in the ocean inspire
your whirlwind outbursts as
we wait to say goodnight
In aria you sent a penned
Leadbelly soaring into dreams
he made your music his own
no strolls downtown for me
you’ve clinkered me with plants
— Brooks Robards

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