Snow!

It's snowing tonight and it is only October. The amount of snow that has fallen is enough to prompt a severe weather warning in England, but not enough to persuade a Canadian to get their winter coat out of storage. I've only lived in a place (i.e., Canada) where it snows for three years, so I am still quite interested in it and I like it a lot and find it to be very attractive, even though I can't walk in it without looking like I have legs of wood. In summary: snow is great.

Here is a poem not-really about snow. You probably know it, because you are a reader of this web-blog and are, therefore: a) moderately well-read; b) attractive in certain lights; c) muscular in surprising ways. Here goes.

Snow

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.


World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.


And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes –
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands –
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

                                                                        Louis MacNeice

Coming soon: I receive a mysterious of gift of two severed hands from Portugal (one missing some fingers), and continue to live with the very real consequences of finding out how to watch English television in real time from Canada.

Pip pip!

NWM