Hurricane Season

The sky is grey, dark, ashen, overcast,
Ominous, ready to pour going to blast,
Streets are empty, cold, pre-storm stillness,
The air is crispy cold, not moving, windless,
Its hurricane season everyday another is born,
Over the islands the east coast Boca Raton,
Palm trees waving crazy arms in the gale,
Waves running to shore as big as a whale,
Every year during hurricane season without fail,
Only thing to do, stay home with a pint of ale,
xox
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