Rome wasn't sacked in a day, so it won't be rebuilt by tomorrow's deadline.
The bedrock beneath our fair city is unshaken, and the cellphone towers stand unfallen.
It wasn't for lack of weathermen -- it was lack of faith in the broad clear warnings. How do you fight willful blindness?
Business as usual in the aftermath. Consider carpentry as an avocation.
Point the way to our gathering hope, still shaken but drawn together. Here: here is where the corner turned.
There's no mistaking this as reckless: our weather eye tracks all instruments, lest we be surprised again.
Never again.
Point the way to those willing to see. There are new eyes willing to see disaster in the making, to avert or prepare.
We won't slide into the sea today.
