The first snow of the year always reminds me of one of my very favorite poems, James Wright's "Milkweed" from his book The Branch Will Not Break:
Milkweed
While I stood here, in the open, lost in myself,
I must have looked a long time
Down the corn rows, beyond grass,
The small house,
White walls, animals lumbering toward the barn.
I look down now.
It is all changed.
Absolutely lovely! Thank you for this.
I just went out and took a long walk myself in Fort Tryon Park with my camera to capture the beauty of the freshly fallen snow ... the architecture of old stone steps highlighted, the red and green of the holly tree looking like a Christmas card. There wasn't too much film left in my camera, so it was hard to decide when to shoot and when to keep walking. When the roll was done and rewinding itself, I came upon a path winding steeply down a hill, with three lamp posts wearing snow caps along the path, visible one behind the other, each at just a slightly different angle. I regretted not having any more film and considered walking all the way home and returning with a fresh roll. Then I told myself, "It's all right ... It's enough to have SEEN it."
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Beautiful poem, and beautiful story! You put a smile on my face on a bad night.
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