Snow

Before I take the dog into the blizzard currently raging outside my window, let's enjoy a poem by Louis MacNiece, which seems appropriate, even if it isn't really about snow.

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.