Let it snow let it snow let it snow

dick jones snow poemPoem by Dick Jones

I like winter weather. A frigid snowy day is a good day, that I enjoy the way other people enjoy a balmy, sunny day. Biting cold perks me up. I particularly like walking as snow is falling, in the midst of just such a snowscape as Dick describes in the poem. Hell, I even like shoveling snow.

dr omed shoveling snowDr. Omed, liking it.

Alas for me in this era of warming climates snowy days have become rare occasions at the zone of latitude in which I live. The local weatherman promised a little snow this morning but all we got was freezing rain. I feel lucky when I get a day the temperature dips toward freezing. A 70+F day in December or January (Louisville has had several) is downright disquieting…to me. I’ve asked people on such summery winter days if such unseasonable weather bothers them, and clearly the only thing that was bothering them was me asking a question that interrupted their heedless enjoyment of the summer-like warmth. Me, I don’t put on socks or long pants until the temp drops to 40F. Some Louisvillians I’ve seen dress like Eskimos when it gets that “cold.”

I like cold weather and like cold weather in poetry. Lyrics that leave a chill. A poem that speaks with the breath of winter speaks true–to me. When I read Dick’s latest poem at Patteran Pages, I caught that delicious chill that the weather of the world mostly denies me. I’ve been following Dick Jones since our days as Salonistas–about ten years–and in his work these days in my opinion he’s getting the better of better. I thank him for letting me repost, because I wanted to pair his snow poem with a snow poem written by Wallace Stevens–the finest winter poem in English that I know:

The Snow Man
x
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
x
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
x
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
x
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
x
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Colder and colder. Now that I’ve worked up a proper chill, I can put on a sweater and walk the dog in the cold but not snowy night. Maybe we’ll catch a stray flake.

3 responses to “Let it snow let it snow let it snow

  1. Do you have a mind of winter?

  2. Reblogged this on Rogi.

  3. The English language serves tolerably well to limn a bird, a tree,
    a bitter emotion, a battle, even a machine. When it comes to snow,
    however, the language is seldom adequate, never surfunctional.
    Dare we ask why ? Does any language master the feel of, never
    mind the feelings from, a heavy long dry snow ? My best guess is
    that snow is the pre-emptive strike of Nature against the alphabetical
    obsession. It is snow versus the Shakescene, its the alphabet versus
    the Goddess. Every other emotion, even the U.S. patents for a
    machine part, may be translated into words.
    None of the above is to suggest i fail to realize the excellence of the
    words of those who try. Nor the value of trying.

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