Gazebo

[Grafton Common, Nov. 13]

2:00:37 PM      trackback [] 

Like white on rice

This morning everything is covered in a blanket of white. It looks like we got about three inches, enough to cover everything, enough for the plows. And it's still coming down, although the radar shows its giant DayGlo blue and green mass moving offshore soon. It's supposed to be sunny today. Out on my deck, the wind blows swirls of powder every few minutes, like Old Man Winter's breath. Otherwise it falls straight down - like rice, I was thinking. Then I remembered a poem I read a long time ago... found it:

Why We Write Poems

 

"Ten thousand Chinese have come

to plant rice in New Hampshire."

- Stephen Dobyns

 

 

Rice will not grow in New Hampshire.

The Chinese do not know this.

 

They travel with small white flutes

and are not afraid of winter.

 

Their hats are silk,

five blue cranes embroidered on each one.

 

After the arrival, they sit in a field of snow,

share their rice with ravens.

 

Then they begin to play their flutes.

The music sounds like two sisters

 

singing of rain forests, the slow ascent

of thousands of cranes.

 

 

– Mekeel McBride

from No Ordinary World

7:51:06 AM      trackback []