I am watching the 4-8 inches of anticipated snow cover the sidewalk I just shoveled yesterday…
For Christmas we received a treasure trove of old children’s books from Nick’s godmother, including Maxine W. Kumin‘s “No One Writes a Letter to the Snail,” a wonderful collection of accessible poems for kiddos. From quarreling insects to a be-boppin’ rhino, Kumin writes in a way that speaks to children, without ever speaking down to them.
Tonight, as we settle in to watch the still-falling snow from the bedroom window, we will read this poem:
Plowing Out Our Town
The clouds plumped up like pillows all this morning.
At noon they bukged and burst, without warning.
The day went down in a shower of wet feathers.
Now the trucks nose in for get-togethers.
They blat and rumble, crunching across the square,
slow and important, drawn in from everywhere.
Headlights on, their snowplow faces grin
as wide as the Halloween mouths that we cut in
our pumpkins. The drivers talk in frosty o’s.
They stamp their feet and point where each one goes –
which giant loaf of snow to nibble down,
shift gears and hump off, plowing out our town.
It’s worth the 2 1/2 minutes.