Radar rhymes

On the couch flanked
by my two dogs, watching tv,
my cell phone buzzes emergency
tornado
disaster warning.
Brow-knitted weather-folks circle
radar maps,
paint-boxes of angry colors splash
across screen,
pop like pinball machines on ritalin.
In midst of language of meteorology,
I hear velocity couplet, full stop
poetry?
Heavy rain, thunder, lightning
bolt blows transformer,
pyrotechnics illuminate,
our house goes dark.
I search for flashlight,
pen, paper—
yes, a tornadic sonnet!