Tomorrow's News

Jim found the radio in a dusty shop display.
The owner said, ‘Take it. It no longer plays.’

He took it home and fiddled for a while
But only heard static when he turned the dial.

Then as he was getting used to the noise,
The constant crackle was broken by a voice.

‘A plane crash,’ it announced. ‘Everyone dead.’
Jim shook his head sadly as he went to bed.

Early the next day he awoke from his snooze.
And just like usual he turned on the news.

‘Exclusive report,’ said the host. ‘This just in.’
‘A plane crash. There are no survivors within.’

‘How odd,’ Jim thought. ‘I’ve heard that before.’
He tried the radio again, it was static once more.

Every so often the radio stirred,
Announcing disasters before they occurred.

But mostly it gave off a crackly thrum.
Jim found it comforting, a soft background hum.

Eventually the crackle was broken one morning.
By an air siren blast, an urgent warning.

Jim looked up in alarm, as panic took root.
For the first time ever, the radio was mute.

He now knew the radio warned what lay ahead.
What did the silence mean? Would they all be dead?

Prompt: Write a poem that captures the feeling of static, whether it's heard, seen, or felt.