Weather Villanelle

The radar is hot with orange and red —
“High winds, large hail,” the announcer drones.
The coming storm feels sluggish and edged.

We waited for hours, now time for bed.
Worried about sleeping, my son moans.
The radar is hot with orange and red,

Grand Rapids, Saginaw, Detroit form a wedge
of suffocating air, windborne “stones.”
The coming storm feels sluggish and edged —

my mind is buzzing with words unsaid,
disordered fragments echoed alone.
The radar is hot with orange and red.

Outside mourning dove nestlings have fledged,
but the next batch of eggs are building bones.
The coming storm feels sluggish and edged.

“Turn off the lights,” my dad always said,
now it’s computers whose circuits could blow.
The radar is hot with orange and red —
the coming storm feels sluggish and edged.

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