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Uncommon Cold
by Judith Mesch

When Susan sneezed
No one was pleased
And when she snoze
Her family froze
In crouching pose
Then slowly rose
Mouths yet to close
On panicked Oh!s,
Remaining tense and on their toes
With one eye on that twitching nose
All set to bellow “Thar she blows!”
And now that nose, aggressive hose
More wet than melting Arctic floes
That never slept, not one small doze,
When those in range might snatch repose
Or quickly crunch some Cheerios
Or other bite, whate’er one chose,
So, biding taut, a row of crows
When asked by strangers, “Vas ist Loss?”
Respond “That’s just the way it goes.”