Little Girls Dream of the Snow


Though it never comes
except in stories,
their forecasting is assured,
as precise as orbits.
There will be snow.
They feel it,
they have heard whispers,
read signs buried in the sky,
when they wake up
the village will be gleaming,
cold and buried.
The BBC thinks otherwise
but satellites know nothing,
they have no faith,
there is no magic in their eyes.
Tomorrow we will be
reborn to a world both
beautiful and blind.