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January 2019, vol 14 no 4

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Lynn Edge

Harvey, a Year Later

This morning, a year after Hurricane Harvey, I walked around our newly mowed yard. Near the fence I found two shingles from the neighbor’s roof. The asphalt had fused with the ground. Our pecan trees, suffering from wind-driven rain, have patches of bark peeling up like shavings under a hand plane. Down the street, Octavio and Marie, a couple in their 80s live in a small mobile next to their brick house covered with blue tarp. It is doubtful the home will ever be livable again.

a hint of yellow
beneath tangled vines:
caution sign

My husband is on the local water board. Last night the district reported a fiscal deficit for the year. The generators were down for two weeks and people were not charged for water they didn’t have. Many homes stayed unoccupied for months. Some people like Virginia, a retired teacher, have moved in with relatives. In a community of only three hundred, every resident counts.

one bloom
rises from a shrub
wild morning glory