That May was just like any other May,
with people going on about their lives,
but winds would build with thunderheads in gray,
and hit the town with swirling, hurtled knives.
A twister cut a swath through empty streets,
while sirens blared their warning in its path,
and many huddled in their basement seats,
eleven souls were lost to nature's wrath.
Committees sought rebuilding and would find
the Greensburg plight a media success.
Donations flowed, with spending intertwined
with "green" construction for the hungry press.
Though devastation rocked the rural plains,
A phoenix rises from the town's remains.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.