Hurricane Man


I wanna be a hurricane man.

Just like Dan.

And look Carla in the eye,

Rather than who I am.


Now he anchors CBS News.

Just because he didn't die.

He braved her full force,

Now, he's as believable as the CBS Eye.


Or like Neil, so Frankly speaking.

Armed with his degrees and weird flattop.

The National Hurricane Center under his belt.

And the weather on his channel non-stop.


I wanna be a hurricane man.

To surf the highs and lows,

Searching for a tropical wave,

That I can ride to where the wind blows.


Now every Tom, Dick, and Mary,

Weather caster or reporter extraordinary;

Is at a spot on the coast.

Hoping to be the one to report the most. 


Talking wind velocity, barometer reading, and high tides.

Warning citizens and surfers about storm surges and riptides.

Telling people to evacuate.

Get out before it's too late. 


Oh, to chase the storm to find the exact spot,

Where the eye will cross.

Testing equipment and body to wind. 

To hell with the cost.


The idea is simple, and yet so plain.

Only fools and the hurricane man,

Go out in the wind and rain.


You could be a big star.

Or anchor some day.

Or get caught in the tidal surge,

And washed away.


Copyright 1998 © Ronald W. Hull



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