Just a little snow, not too much. Just enough to make area schools shut early and open late, which isn't that much in a town that isn't quite sure what to do when the white stuff starts falling.
And I stood in the deserted library yesterday, looking out the window, past the parking lot and into the wooded lot beyond, looking like a Christmas card. Not only was I selfishly hoarding the best view, but also the warm spot near the heating vent.
And now, a 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.
Read the rest here.
Roundup is over at The Poem Farm. Be sure to stop by and see the drifts of poems we're sharing today!