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A storm carol

T’was the night before the seven day mark, the juice was still out, not even a spark.
While all through the gable, not an outlet was working, not even the cable.
The flashlights were hung by the bed sides with care, in hopes that the electric company would soon be there.
The grand twins were shivering in their bed, with visions of lost Halloween candies dancing in their heads.
Halloween had been canceled due to the dark, even the costume party held in the park.
Ann and I were settled for the night, when out on the street there arose such a clatter.
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. I threw open the window and to my surprise, I saw four yellow trucks starting to arrive.
One had a little old driver who looked like the boss, and more rapid than eagles, his orders they came, as he whistled and cursed all by name: “Damn it Bill, up there Will, that one John, this one Jill. to the top of the pole, now cut away, cut away, cut away all.”
The dry leaves, heavy with snow, tore down the trees and tore down the poles, but when the workers met an obstacle, the chain saws did fly, everything was gone, in the blink of an eye.
The boss, a stump of a pipe he held in his teeth, as the little man screamed, “Faster, faster, we ain’t got all week.” They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work, cutting and wiring then turned with a jerk.
To his team, he gave them a whistle, and away they flew, on to the next street and the next street too. I heard them shout as they sped out of sight, “You got your lights back now, you know what to do.” So I ran to the TV., remote in hand, trembling with joy as i surfed the band. “The cable is back,” I shouted to Ann, and once again, there was joy in the land.
Don Crossman
East Longmeadow
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