by Larry Brody
NOTE FROM LB:
It snowed here last week and reminded me of as many different events and ideas and people as there were snowflakes on the ground. I used to love the snow. But last week I just looked at it and wondered, “What if we can’t get the car up the driveway and out to the street? What if we’re snowed in?” But we weren’t snowed in. As another poet once said about a whole ‘nuther subject, “’tis pity….”
Standing in the doorway, I watch the snow fall,
And think about love.
The thought is as cold as the snow looks.
Hard, scattered, sheeting down from afar.
Pelting and dangerous. I could skid.
I could fall.
Bundling up, I go out in the snow,
And feel love.
The feeling is as warm as the snow when
It melts on my face. Soft, steady, a
Nourishing nearness as it drips
Through the wanting lips of my
I taste the snow,
And I know life’s for the feeling.
To live is to do, not merely to be.
Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. Although the book whose cover you see above is for sale on Kindle, he is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.