When the robot voice

sings the tornado warning,

I grab my wine glass—


already half full

with happy hour Shiraz—

then run downstairs fast.


In the basement, we

watch the weather on TV,

gauge the rotation.


Dog, man, cat, and I

hunker down in the bathroom

’til the “all clear” sounds.


A rare occasion?

No, I think we’ve done this twice

in one week. (Oh, yes.)