The Wind and the Waves

The beaches all have disappeared, the bay
Is slowly getting bigger, and the wind
Is keeping all New Yorkers wholly pinned
To ever wetter hearth, before the fray
Is finished, having taken all the light,
The heating, and ability to hear
Whatever’s going on to any near
Unless they’re well within the very sight
Of any other suffering the storm.
It would appear the people are alone,
But universal vigil can atone
For isolation, which, to misinform
The citizens, now sitting in the dark,
Is telling them from hope to disembark.
(They doubtless felt the same aboard the Ark.)