Ode to the tornado of June 2007

Pretend you are a tornado.

Pretend you are spawned over Wilkin County
and grow up over Otter Tail County.

There are only shelterbelts to blow over in Wilkin County.
Most years, just not June 2007, there is ample dust to raise.
The mud of this June sticks to earth.

You come out of puberty and cross the line into Otter Tail County,
Welcome to Sheriff Schlueter Land.

One thousand lakes, many thousand cabins, pontoons, boat lifts
and in June many thousand people.

The Sheriff and all his deputies track you down below
red lights flashing.
Waiting for you, then chasing you.
You are a red monster on the Doppler.

The PRFD is dispatched.
There is a fire truck on every hill.
Chief Steeves protecting his town.

As you near Sheriff Schlueter orders 10-33 traffic over the scanner.
The sirens blare as you pass by Elizabeth.

You are difficult to apprehend.
In the distance enormous expanses of water and woods.
You start to worry.

Trees heavily laden with army worms tumble in your wake.
Boaters speed towards shore as the sky grows mossy green.

Taking a path similar to your grandfather back in 1964
you start to suck up the water of Lida.

It's four long miles across this monster.
You are only an EF1 with aspirations.
Halfway across you make it to EF2.

Will you make it intact to the north shore
or surrender under the weight of all the water?

You are photographed just before you slam into the isthmus called Crystal Lida.
You are about a mile further west of Grandpa.
You tear off some roofs.
Trees a meter in diameter bow down

From the south end of North Lida, three miles distant
you left a notch in the canopy of Lida Shores.
You left us a lot of property damage
and plenty of awe for your awesome power.

You left us with memories and nightmares.
No broken bones that we know of,
No blood spilled.

We are grateful.