When there’s a
storm
coming
and the dog
hides
under the bed
shaking
and the little hairs
stand up all over
your body
and the
weather radio
blares
listing alert
after alert
for your area,
so you drink a
beer and sit at
the kitchen table
hoping
the dark sky
isn’t as ominous
as it looks,
hoping
at least the
electric
won’t go out
because despite
the ongoing
pandemic,
you have deadlines
and online meetings
and a to-do list,
hoping the
static
coursing through
your body brings
productivity
or change
or something good
and doesn’t mean
you’ll be huddled
in the basement
with your kids
at midnight
again.