Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute.
(Snow in the Suburbs - Thomas Hardy)
Our Writers Group AGM has been postponed from tonight to next Thursday night. We did however fulfil our weekly engagement reading poetry at Knightsbridge yesterday on the basis that if were snowed in there it's probably the warmest, cosiest place in the town.
And of course we read some snow poems. The Cremation of Sam McGee is great to read aloud if you can get a good rhythm going and keep attention from the start. A quick internet search added these three which went down fairly well. Snow in the Suburbs by Thomas Hardy, It sifts from Leaden Sieves by Emily Dickinson and The Snow Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I often read Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening so it's a bonus to have the car park fill up with snow as I read.
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1 comment:
Dear Michael: Praying for you all in Erin! Hoping you get better whether soon, put doesnt it wax abit poetic? Maybe, maybe not? You have inspired me to think of writing a classic Canadian epic like The Cremation of Sam McGee (who I think was my neighbour up north Ontario). Nonetheless you have brought us snow today! Fluffy stuff, not at all the ughy stuff of the thousand words for snow Innuit fame! Tame snow (so far, crossing fingers!). Lol!
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