When November Roars

Upon the Great Lakes’ vast expanse, a fierce legacy remains,
Where waters meet the sky, and storms of legend brew,
In November’s grasp, the winds awaken, wild and untamed,
A saga of power and peril, etched in waves and lore.

The gales of November roar, a tempest unleashed upon the Great Lakes,
Waves batter the shore with fierce, relentless might,
Clouds loom heavy, swallowing the sun, as darkness cloaks the land,
In 1913, the Big Blow surged, claiming ships, claiming lives,
Over 250 souls lost, their tales whispered in the wind’s mournful wail.

Winds howl with unbridled fury, a force beyond restraint,
Nature’s raw power laid bare, the Armistice Day Storm, a day of despair,
November 11, 1940, gales at a hundred miles per hour or more tore through,
Fourteen vessels found their graves beneath the waves,
Echoes of sailors’ cries, bound forever to the restless tide.

The waters churn with wild energy, gripped by the storm’s relentless hold,
On that fateful November in 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald met its doom,
Waves towered high, a battle against the storm’s merciless grasp,
The ship vanished beneath the surface, 29 souls taken to the deep,
A haunting testament to nature’s untamed, unforgiving dance.

Yet as each storm fades, the lakes rest again in quiet majesty,
Their beauty as striking as their fury is fierce,
The tales of November’s gales endure, carried on the wind,
A solemn reminder of nature’s might,
And the enduring spirit of those who brave her tempestuous embrace.