Irene By Emily Hohmann The eyes open to White caps rolling, Trees shaking, Rain pouring. “Irene’s here!” Someone yells. “Who’s Irene?” I ask myself. I walk downstairs, Open the door, but It slams shut on me. I read the words “STORM WATCH” across the TV screen And ask my sister, “Who’s Irene?” “Look outside,” She replies, but I don’t see anyone. A branch falls from the sky. Water rises over the dock. More rain and howling winds. But I’m not scared, None of us kids are. 78
The Drumlin | Spring 2020
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