Hurricane Milton’s Flight: A Tale of Ashes and Friends

Through a shuddering dawn, we fled Cape Coral’s edge,

With winds howling secrets, and waters poised to sledge.

Hurricane Milton carved the sky, a beast we couldn’t tame,

So we took to the road—our life, our hopes, and my father’s name.

Ashes in the backseat, a quiet, sacred urn,

His spirit felt the winds, in every twist and turn.

Alligator Alley crawled, a snake of brake lights bright,

Stop and go, yet forward, we pressed into the night.

The storm’s breath heavy, but not heavier than ours,

Each moment stretched, like palm trees bending to the stars.

Yet there was grace in motion, and in every weary face—

We all ran the same race, no matter time or place.

Ft. Lauderdale, at last, where high winds still whipped the shore,

But in the Elbo Room, we found what we were looking for.

Old friends like anchors, and strangers who became,

Part of a circle drawn from fire, wind, and flame.

Pet dogs by the dozens—tails wagging, noses wet,

Of every size and breed, a joyful, bouncing set.

Labradoodles and pointers, dachshunds on our laps,

Bringing warmth amid the storm, like soft and steady taps.

The music filled the air, a lifeline of its own,

With every chord, we laughed, no longer feeling blown.

Relief was found in songs, in smiles, in shared delight,

Despite the storm still roaring, we danced into the night.

Dad’s ashes sat with us, in spirit, as we played,

His laughter in the wind, his memory gently swayed.

We carried more than loss those days; we carried life anew—

In the Elbo Room of high winds, where joy found its true view.