Poetry | Radar | Mary Ann Schaefer

Radar listen
There are so many ways to see
change coming.  Look up

if you can, if you’re not inside
a cubicle with beehive partitions

and fire sprinklers overhead.  Get
out, find a rooftop and look back

on the weather vane spinning
like a top.  That used to mean

something, like the cows lying
down or horses high-tailing it,

low-flying birds or fish breaking
water, biting eagerly or hey, your

own dog is eating grass!  Never
mind.  Probably you don’t pay

attention unless the tv or the pc or
the cell phone beeps instructing

you to take cover, calmly but
hurry.  Satellite dishes becoming

disarrayed, NEXRAD maps flashing
bright redorangeyellowRED swirling

contours going haywire at shark-
attack speeds, and still, you might

have time to escape conceding that
nothing is what you expected it to be.