I looked online.
Checked Twitter,
Facebook. The TV.
The radio in my car.
The newspaper.
They all said,
It’s coming.

The clouds
are thickening,
it’s dark early.
The air is frigid.
The wind is picking up.

I’m only 56.
But I feel like
my Grandfather
when I say the
arthritis in my
joints tells me,
it’s coming.

Electric blue radar
tells the tale.
We await, warm in
our house with
stocked pantry.
We await, the
coming of the storm.