Snow may be the bane of commuters, of people who have to shovel their driveways, of motorists who struggle on the roads.
But it was no tragedy for the millions of kids who got the day off.
A blanket of snow covered Central Park. It was beautiful --- flakes falling on trees, dogs frolicking, kids hauling their sleds into the wonderland.
While many of us cuss the inconvenience and delays, Emily Dickinson found snowflakes beautiful. “I counted till they danced so, their slippers leaped the town...”
Poets find magic in snow. Conrad Aiken wrote:
“Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares
“With purple lights in the canyoned street...The trodden grass in the park is covered with white,
The streets grow silent beneath our feet...
The city dreams, it forgets its past..”
Or, exuberantly, one early 19th century poet, John Whittaker Watson, exclaimed:
“Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,
“Filling the sky and the earth below.”
Mayor Michael Bloomberg, as his Sanitation Department mobilized to fight the season's greatest snowstorm, waxed poetic, recalling that March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb.
But perhaps, even snow haters can find encouragement in Shelley's words: “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
