Welcome to Sunday Poetry. If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday blogs here.
Last week Northern Virginia had snow on the ground. Before Halloween. Unheard of. Of course it was nothing like the 20 inches some places farther north received. I remember my first winter in NW Pennsylvania, a 200-inches-of-snow kind of winter. Florida girl that I was, I couldn’t believe that I had to take my children trick-or-treating in boots and long johns. Long johns, in case you haven’t tried this, play havoc with Halloween costumes.
When Snow by David Berman appeared in my mailbox this week, courtesy of Poetry 180, it seemed particularly apt. After all, winter has begun here, even though we still have leaves on the trees. The poem made me smile, too. I never had a younger sibling, but as the mother of four, I remember these endless questions. Bet many of you do, too.
I love the line: “When it’s snowing, the outdoors seem like a room.” What a great image, and it rang true for me immediately. Snow makes the world a more intimate place, covering so many things we don’t need to know or think about.
Remember there are no quizzes here, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share. Absolutely no dissecting allowed. Just come along for the “read.” What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week? If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you? We’ll listen.