My first night along, why should I remember

that dim misty day a week shy of December

Sitting at the window this uneasiness inside

as this battle took shape right before my eyes

Sweeping in from the east an ill wind did blow

this howling of hell whistling like never before

A flotilla of cloud in the south mingling, massing!

billowing! now blanketing the shy without asking

Roaring in the west this snap, that thunderous crack

the lightning is striking back! lighting up the night.

Then the rains rushing forth! down from the north

drowning each voice, proclaiming it’s victory to-night.

 

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