Poem for the Day

To a Snowflake

 

By Francis Thompson, 1891

 

WHAT heart could have thought you? --

Past our devisal

(O filigree petal!)

Fashioned so purely,

Fragilely, surely,

From what Paradisal

Imagineless metal,

Too costly for cost?

Who hammered you, wrought you,

From argentine vapor? --

"God was my shaper.

Passing surmisal,

He hammered, He wrought me,

From curled silver vapor,

To lust of His mind --

Thou could'st not have thought me!

So purely, so palely,

Tinily, surely,

Mightily, frailly,

Insculped and embossed,

With His hammer of wind,

And His graver of frost."

*

3:00 p.m.: I've been standing at my kitchen's east window, putting things in the dishwasher and watching little snowflakes fall.
 

Snow at last

Not much, but enough.

The King Charles's Head Syndrome

I'm dreading next week. But as time plunges headlong, it'll be over before you know it.

I started to say we had a "puny little snowfall," but I'm too superstitious--it could bury us next time. The deck was covered with glittering crystals of snow over ice.

Three things that went right today: I woke up. I had one Coke and plenty of coffee. My sore arm is better.

*
Probably for the first time, I don't even want to watch "Jeopardy."

More Snow

About six o'clock, the rain turned to snow, and now we've got probably an inch or two accumulation. The white cat appeared on the deck. I put a bowl of cat food inside the door, and left the door open. He eventually came in and ate, but every time I would try to get over there and shut the door, he would dart toward the deck. He finally finished eating and left, when I was about to freeze.


I posted a picture of the snow, and the cat's face peering in the door, on Facebook. But still can't get pictures on my blog.

Deja vu

The snow showers we were supposed to get yesterday turned into all-day snow and ice, impassable jams on the highways, and abandoned cars everywhere. Today, cars kept going up and down Rowan Road by my house, as if nothing unusual was happening. The sun was shining with all his might, and the driveway was pretty clear. So about 1:30 p.m., I drove to the convenience store. There were still some icy patches, and everyone was driving slow, including me. Took me back to the old days in Huntsville where the roads were messed up for most of the winter, and you had to get out there and drive anyway. They say it'll all start freezing over again, about ten minutes from now.

The Sounds of the Country 'Round

In my office, I can often hear a large dog somewhere in the neighborhood, barking a G above middle C--I think that's it, though I have no way to verify the note. It may be a G below middle C, because it's definitely a large dog and some distance away, and the note never changes. At night, or on dim frosty days like this, it imparts a Russian feeling, visions of wolves, of Zhivago struggling through the snow. Or Omar Sharif struggling through the snow.


We only had a small gathering at the Arts Center last night. I guess everyone was afraid of the BIG SNOW which is supposed to materialize somewhere within the 24 hour period. Around here, a few sleety grains is a big snow, especially if they take an hour or so to melt.


When my book is published, I wonder if I'll stop attending writers' group meetings except to sign books, or when they ask me to hold a workshop and tell 'em how to write.


Sometimes my writing seems dangerously close to cynicism, but I'm not like that. It really is snowing.
*
Been watching the grains turn into flakes. Now that's snow!

Not Quite

I did see snow last night, but just barely. When I turned on the deck light before I went to bed, out the glass door I saw a few measly grains of powder on the railing.

Season Four has to be Downton Abbey's last gasp. Episode 1 last night was so bad, it wasn't even funny. The only good things about it were (1) the rescue of Charlie Griggs from the workhouse, and (2) either the Limey voices had been made more coherent, or my head noises had partially cleared up--I could make out what they were saying all the time. But I wasn't all that happy about it.

Snow?

I bet it'll look cute, floating on the big rain puddles in my back yard--pardon me, "backyard." The "frontyard" doesn't have any puddles.

But there are a couple in the east sideyard.
*
12:00 noon: Well, it's falling. I should have had more faith. Snow in January. Across the street, two guys and a dog are just standing out there in it, looking beatific.