"WHISPER OF CARANOCHE"

The wind whispers tales of Odette's wrath, Caranoche remembers, a storm's chilling path. From Santa Catalina's shores, to the heart of our town, The echoes of fury, still linger around. The mango trees bowed low, their branches askew, The river swelled, a raging, relentless hue. Homes were battered, roofs torn and frayed, But the spirit of Caranoche, refused to be swayed. From Ferdie's breath, the skies weep once more, A symphony of rain, a mournful roar. The mountains tremble, the earth sighs with pain, But in the quiet moments, hope whispers again. We gather close, as neighbors and friends, Sharing stories, offering hands to mend. The scent of damp earth, and the taste of salt air, Remind us of nature's power, beyond compare. The river's gentle flow, whispers a tale of rebirth, Of resilience blooming, amidst the ravaged earth. The coconut palms sway, a silent, solemn grace, As Caranoche awakens, with a strength to embrace. This land we call home, a tapestry woven with tears, Of storms and resilience, of laughter and fears. We learn from each tempest, a lesson etched deep, To protect our paradise, the secrets we keep.