Hurricane Poem by Bill Grace

A hurricane in Houston assasinates my sleep
Its winds howl across the air waves
They will reach me in the morning
The moon has a strange glow
The television's animations - its terrible sounds
Keep my old friend's memory close as
Pavarotti's voice plays biography on the educational channel and
I ride under my blanket supported by the great blue couch
In a 'fierce and beautiful world, '
Which is a translation of a Russian's title
I have never read.