Wayzata ("Why-zetta"), a sweet little Minnesota town,
In 2013 got a spell of bad weather that mowed it all down.
We got there on Friday to set up our booth array
For the weekend's anticipated grand art show display.
We had barely completed our structural labors
Along with a couple of artist neighbors
When the warnings came of an approaching big storm
And we reinforced fortifications beyond the norm.
Inside the closed tent snuggly zipped up and dry
I was about to install the pretty puzzle supply,
But the wind started slamming and ramming the walls
And lifting the corners in a series of 80-mile squalls.
Then—bam!—with a thud the booth from two spaces away
Lifted up and flew mangled against the side of our display.
Through the wall I managed to brace it beyond our curtain
Or it would have punched a hole through our vinyl for certain.
As the gusts and blasts heightened their gale-force ferocity,
Getting out of the tent was the better part of sagacity.
Unzipping the front doorway and slipping out in the torrent,
I bungeed the last flap against the tempest's crazed current.
Drenched to the skin, in the van we watched and waited
Until the rage of the storm and its ravages abated.
Although our Trimline booth weathered the violence unscathed,
Many artists' displays in destruction were bathed,
Photo courtesy of Betsey Harries from Wayzata Facebook page
And Saturday morning the announcement was spread:
They cancelled the show with more wild storms ahead.
The whole town had lost power, several towers were downed
And fallen trees blockaded streets all around.
All traffic lights black, cars were courteous and careful,
Taking turns as at four-way stops, patient and cheerful.
Such is work in the great outdoors, success bound in strife,
One week a washout, the next a rich pageant of life.
We may be battered and bruised, but never beaten:
Spunky spirits live on sunshine—storms are a-fleetin'.
Our thanks to management's wise and caring role—
They're tops in every detail within their control.
