After the news, the forecaster crowed
With excitement about his bad tidings:
Eighteen inches of snow! Take cover!
A little shiver ran through the community.
Children abandoned their homework.
Who cared about the hypotenuse now?
The snowplow driver laid out his long johns.
The old couple, who’d barked at each other
At supper, smiled shyly, turned off the TV,
And climbed the stairs to their queen-size bed
Heaped high with blankets and quilts.
And the aging husky they failed to hear
Scratch the back door, turned around twice
In the yard, settled herself in the snow,
And covered her nose with her tail.
Barton Sutter
The
best thing that never happened, you
Could
pass through walls, breath fire
And perform other magicks I’m sure
That I never had a chance to see,
concocting potions and powders
and spells you’d spit into the night
A frightening feminine of fables
Just as quick to disappear as arrive
