What happens when a really active outdoor person (like me) sits around, cooped up for two and a half days inside while tropical weather spoils the out-of-doors? 
Maybe he writes. This morning as Barry was emitting his final gasps, our diseased and dying Red Bud tree in the front yard gave up the ghost and sagged over from the two-days’ weight of wind and rain. I had predicted as much before the storm arrived, because the poor old tree’s been living on borrowed time for the past year. Here’s an old-fashioned ode to the fallen tree:
“Ode to a Fallen Red Bud Tree”
(In the aftermath of Hurricane Barry)
Alas, noble Red Bud, lain low this day
By wretched Barry’s malevolent breeze.
O’er thirty years, fiery blooms’ did display
Portents of spring on wings of honey bees.
Since last year we perceived thy dread decline,
Ridden by insects and ravaged by age.
So this fate be thy mercy; may nature shine
At death’s release from thy pained mortal stage.
May red-bloomed branches, in eternal spring,
Our ‘membrance grace with tones that song birds sing.
Inventio! 