Friday, September 01, 2006

WOUNDS OF WEATHER

The wounds of weather, all together, portray the gory story of thousands dead, hurricanes that, in their wane, leave behind tales that will come to mind after they've been born and died---legends told and retold from now until today becomes one of the "days of old." Historians will recall the cold statistics, horrific and specific, the trouble and travail that left a nation in devastation.

Unlike storms and winds that innocently begin, grow strong and linger long, tornadoes strike without a sound, do their devastation, then go on a brief vacation. Where they go you can't know. But there remains the fear they'll reappear far or near the site where they unleashed their might. When you view that funel tunnel bearing down on your town all you can do is pray the twister tornado will go away.

Floods have a personality and vitality all their own. It's known they can start with gentle rains that adorn parched fields of wheat or corn. An end of drought? Farmers doubt as storm clouds shroud the sky and empty straining bladders, raining down on lands that cry for that first burst to quench their thirst.

But then there is a thunderous roar and more water continues to pour. The fields become a muddy mire and the land loses its desire for water to slake their thirst. Lakes replace greening fields and yields of crops near harvest time are reduced to worthless slime.

Like all of nature's force, floods will run their course and then subside and when the sun begins to shine again the farmers, a hardy breed, will reseed and eye the sky as days go by and when the corn is six feet high they'll have the best harvest they can recall. Rain will fall and sun will shine and everything will be just fine.

But in the hearts of all who depend on the vagaries of land and seas, on clouds that vie with wind and rain, on mighty powers that erupt mysteriously the scars of wounds of weather will remain.

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