Thursday, July 5, 2012

Not One Mean Bone

Not One Mean Bone

Best thing to do
with hail is to find
a non-terrifying thing
to compare it to,
size-wise. And to
cover your head.
Describe it. Draw
from food or from
or golf ball or marble.
Photograph the hail
and look at other
pictures of hail from
across the county.
Let’s name the storm,
Doreen or Sandy
or Wilbur or Abe,
and then give it
a pet name when
it gets close enough,
Dorie, Wilby-poo,
Hurricane Babycakes.
It doesn’t know it’s
hurting you, even if
you tell it. It can’t
understand us. Not
one mean bone in
its body, no bones
at all. We can’t stop it,
but we can decide what
to call it. No such thing
as a stormless life.


  1. enjoyed your development of how life is like a hail storm or hurricane, it does not know it's hurting you.

  2. I'd love to see one of the Weather Channel blondes furrow their brows over "Hurricane Babycakes."

  3. Bill's comment made me laugh.

    What a great image you used for inspiration. I especially like your concluding line "No such thing / as a stormless life." Those of us who sweltered through derecho this past week know that in the most literal terms.

  4. Great line-endings in this poem, Hannah. The shorter lines are perfect for the content too.

  5. I love the last line best. So true.

  6. I am one of those who photographs every hail that I find and I don't know why...Lovely poem Hannah!

  7. I agree with the comments--you really do great last lines.
    Plus it's a great poem.

  8. One of my favorites on here. A storm of bravos!

  9. hannah, i pick you up and swing you around. i am delighted with this one.



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