A Raven

Dedicated to Paul Coffey and the 1996 Detroit Red Wings

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, 
	weak and weary, 
Shaken by the goal for Colorado which Paul Coffey
	had just scored
into his own net which he had been guarding,
	preparing for his discarding
the puck into the corner so it could be played by the
	Wings off the boards.
'Tis some wretched curse,' I murmured, 'which allows
	the Avalanche to score --
					Only this and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I can say that it was in a joyous May
when each separate dying ember wrought its ghost
	upon the floor.
The Red Wings ran the NHL -- 63 times at the final
	bell
victory had been theirs. Now the Cup required sixteen
	more.
For the radiant Stanley Cup, the Red Wings must win
	sixteen more --
					It would not be an easy chore.


And the Jets of Winnipeg challenged the Wings but
	were stayed.
It thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic frenzy 
	n'er felt before,
but tension continued my heart's beating as St. Louis
	came entreating
and kept pounding away at the Red Wing 
	netminder's door.
The Blues fell finally at the entrance to the Red
	Wings' chamber door.
				They still had to win eight more.

Presently my soul grew stronger knowing there had
	been no stronger
record than the Wings had run up through the season,
	and, what's more,
they had the Russian line to augment Yzerman and
	the others
and so faintly did I ponder feeling as I did the
	founder, once more,
bring them on, this Avalanche, the Red Wings will
	slam the door --
				Until Paul Coffey's errant score.



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