Today I shoveled snow. Lots of it. The New York City Department of Sanitation, not wanting a failing grade for their handling of this storm, mounted a blitz that was bound to put a wry smile on the face of every snow-shagged New Yorker. The snow had barely fallen last night (not even an inch), when the plows passed on my street - twice! As the night wore on, we would hear them enough times to lose count... and interest.
This morning, the snow was light and powdery and so brilliantly white that it gave me pause. I shoveled the sidewalk, the front steps, along the side of the house and made a path through the backyard to the basement steps. When I was done, I was dripping wet under several layers of clothing, but it felt so good that after a rest I went back outside and shoveled my neighbors sidewalk and driveway as well. This is my eighty year old neighbor on the right. I shoveled and she salted - it was almost like gardening: one person turning the earth and the other seeding it. It was good to get the job done, but I couldn't get over just how good it was to sweat! And to kick off everything and relax afterward...
To that end, here's a snow poem.
Snow Day
by Billy Collins
Today we woke up to a revolution of snow,
its white flag waving over everything,
the landscape vanished,
not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness,
and beyond these windows
the government buildings smothered,
schools and libraries buried, the post office lost
under the noiseless drift,
the paths of trains softly blocked,
the world fallen under this falling.
In a while, I will put on some boots
and step out like someone walking in water,
and the dog will porpoise through the drifts,
and I will shake a laden branch
sending a cold shower down on us both.
But for now I am a willing prisoner in this house,
a sympathizer with the anarchic cause of snow.
I will make a pot of tea
and listen to the plastic radio on the counter,
as glad as anyone to hear the news
that the Kiddie Corner School is closed,
the Ding-Dong School, closed.
the All Aboard Children’s School, closed,
the Hi-Ho Nursery School, closed,
along with—some will be delighted to hear—
the Toadstool School, the Little School,
Little Sparrows Nursery School,
Little Stars Pre-School, Peas-and-Carrots Day School
the Tom Thumb Child Center, all closed,
and—clap your hands—the Peanuts Play School.
So this is where the children hide all day,
These are the nests where they letter and draw,
where they put on their bright miniature jackets,
all darting and climbing and sliding,
all but the few girls whispering by the fence.
And now I am listening hard
in the grandiose silence of the snow,
trying to hear what those three girls are plotting,
what riot is afoot,
which small queen is about to be brought down.
Also, check out Billy Collins on the You Tube Video Bar - see the animated poem 'Forgetfulness'...and don't miss the delightful video of the 3 year old reciting 'Litany'!
(Pause the music play list first)
