The rain is coming down, outside,
The wind is cold and gusty.
The trees are swaying back and forth,
No longer dry and musty.
Poppies blooming late this year
And with them comes the iris.
But with the storm tonight, I know
The garden will be in crisis.
I’m safe here, in my living room
Up on the highest floor,
But downtown, streets are sinking
And on Front Street, every store
Is washed in rain today, and then
Tonight, there comes high tide.
The river rises on its banks
The city wants to hide.
A storm I saw, in ’78,
I hoped would be the only.
But June is always rain and wind;
Seems dark and drear and lonely.
I’ll turn my favorite music on,
My corner palm alight.
With tea, and blankets, and a book,
I should enjoy the night.