Snow Storm

Inside their laughter wildly rings,

This is the hour when they all meet,

When Cronkite filled their souls with dismal bliss,

They relish this.

The snow storm that’s soon to come,

It’s hawk-like claws, fury and might,

Ruffles not the folly of their bliss,

The fury begins.

The last light flickers and fades away,

Now other sorrows they cannot see,

Because destruction has come their way,

Cronkite fades out.

Through the darkness they grope the stairs,

Each to his chilly quarters creeps,

Terror-stricken as those they have watched,

They know no sleep.