NORMAN — The time has come for my year-end review,
When I rhyme a sum of words just for you.
The year’s norms? Some were nice, but then some were mean.
We’d fear storms, incur lice in 2013.
And this thing: sequester? I’ll pass that knowledge down,
During spring semester from our college town.
Around the middle of the spring semester,
Found out a little about this thing sequester,
Politicians on display with their graphic power.
Have suspicions of no pay in my air traffic tower.
What I would fear to hear and what this could spawn
Was that my dear career could very soon be gone.
Long ago it was said that an Indian chief
Saw strong winds blow, so he pled to God in his grief
For no more tornadoes. Can’t afford in our city.
Please send us some halos. Oh Lord. Please take pity.
And since that chief looked up to the sky that day,
The Norman belief was twisters would fly far away.
Several years went by ’til May of ’99,
Norman’s fears got high, for here came the “dry line.”
The spinning of the cloud above which often follows
In the beginning, then grows loud enough as it swallows
The debris in its belly which is churning like hell
Was gonna be like jelly in the turning carousel.
Toward Norman, it steered forth from I-44.
But that storm? It veered north and hit poor Moore.
And now this year? We’d see the path, what a shame.
And how so eerily the swath was the same.
Like the sound of some trains from the EF-5’s fury
Hit the ground like a plane’s bombs dropped in a flurry.
What this “scar cone” left behind looked really scary,
Like a war zone, so unkind to Moore on the prairie.