The weathermen are predicting 2+’ of snow here. The schools are closed. The roads are closed. The town is closed. This afternoon we’ll have white-out conditions, warm fires, and hot-cocoa drinking.
The kids are sitting by the window and waiting for the snow… they want to go outside and sled and make snowmen and forts.
Me, I’m dreading the shoveling.
In his poem, Shoveling Snow With Buddha, Billy Collins has a wonderfully zen take on my least favorite winter chore.
excerpt from Shoveling Snow With Buddha by Billy Collins
But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.
This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.
To see the rest of the poem, go to Poem Hunter.
I love the lines, “[t]his is the true religion, the religion of snow,/ and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky”. Somehow, in those two lines, he perfectly captures the reverence I feel when I’m standing outside on a winter day.
For more Poetry Friday, visit the lovely Tara at A Teaching Life.