There’s another one coming.

  There’s another one coming.
  I hear your wind ,far above the breeze, gusting violent turbulence whispering there for me. I feel your blackened gray flashing  lightning strikes over a dark, dark sea.
  I feel your comfort thundering, pouring buckets through a dreamless night. A lowly distant rumbling of a perilous frightening storm, there just out of sight.
  They call you by name despite your face in hopes to lessen your scorn. As we try to refrain from the lessons not learned as we watch it all blow away, then proclaim that we were not warned.
  Oh for the days we could squirrel away, just to lie soaking sun on the beach, a warm summer breeze as to while away, not a care have we out of reach. 
  But our hopes and dreams now dashed it seems, have left us from Ian running. We had better take heed as the waters recede and prepare, for there’s a another one coming.
 By GWRoggenbuck