| There are bridges over rivers | 
| There are moments of collapse | 
| There are drivers with their feet on the glass | 
| You can kick but you can’t get out | 
| There is history in the rooms of the house | 
| After dinner do the dishes | 
| Mother hums, the coffeemaker hisses | 
| On the stove, the steam a crescendo | 
| The radio emergency bulletins | 
| And everywhere wind | 
| You took the train down to Terra Haute, Indiana | 
| Visit family, your childhood home | 
| Give your mother her grandkid and father a kiss | 
| Put your luggage in your bedroom in the kitchen sit | 
| With your husband still up in Hudsonville | 
| Until the weekend when his shift ends at the furniture mill | 
| Running water for the dishes and the coffee on the stove | 
| Heard a warning from the corner on the radio | 
| And the glass starts to rattle in the window frames | 
| So you went underground | 
| Took the staircase down | 
| To the cellar full of hunting equipment | 
| Held your baby in your arms | 
| Read the labels on mason jars | 
| Try not to think about your husband in Michigan | 
| Stay calm | 
| Keep the radio loud | 
| Take care | 
| Wind howls | 
| Father piles blankets in the corner by the furnace | 
| Mother lights candles | 
| It’s a miracle the baby doesn’t cry | 
| Back home doing yard work outside | 
| Husband being stubborn under dark skies | 
| Saw the fence by the neighbor’s shed split | 
| Saw the kitchen windows start to bend in | 
| So you went down to the back steps then to the basement | 
| There were bookshelf plans on the workbench | 
| And a flashlight shining bright all night try not to think about your son and | 
| your wife | 
| And the lightning that scattered the night sky | 
| And the wind bursts that tore up the power lines | 
| At the workbench in the basement | 
| Where you sat and tried to wait out the night | 
| You called for three straight days | 
| Still with your family back home | 
| Up in Hudsonville the worst of the storms touched ground | 
| And the phone lines were down | 
| Turn the radio up | 
| There’s a woman | 
| Who got thrown from her car into a barbed wire fence | 
| She was 6-months pregnant | 
| Both her and the baby lived | 
| You tried but the line or… | 
| I remember those nights | 
| I couldn’t get through | 
| To you when quiet storms came rattled the window panes | 
| Couldn’t keep a thing the same way when the storm blew in and the furniture | 
| rearranged | 
| I can see lightning there and a funnel cloud | 
| And her mother said «I swear I saw lightning in your eyes | 
| When that call got through to the other side.» | 
| Stay calm | 
| Keep the radio loud | 
| Stay down | 
| There are bridges over rivers | 
| Sirens in the distant | 
| Wind howls | 
| Keep down | 
| Then | 
| After dinner do the dishes | 
| Mother hums | 
| Wires snap | 
| Metal gets twisted | 
| There’s the rattle of the window glass | 
| Bending in | 
| Take the children down | 
| Terra Haute | 
| Coffee | 
| Thanksgiving | 
| Stay calm | 
| Keep down | 
| At the workbench | 
| Stay | 
| And the coffeemaker hisses | 
| Stay calm | 
| Keep down | 
| Turn the radio | 
| There are | 
| There are moments of collapse |