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Near the Azores		         that’s where they arise
tropical depressions		 that wander westward
fed by warm water		         weakened by windshear.

Over the Caribbean		hook right, head north
now a named storm		sprawling spiral
single-eyed cyclone		hell-hurricane.

Then northeast, following	 Carolina’s coast
Mid-lantic states		         Maritime provinces
eastbound now		         and called extra-tropical.

All the way back		         across the Atlantic
post-tropical cyclones		                can still pack a punch
killer storm-strike		         on old England’s coast.

I still haven’t seen		        the circuit completed
remnants re-finding	        the westbound flow
regaining strength		        south-west of Gibraltar.

First time for everything—
	 second time around?

Listen to Tiel Aisha read the poem: