A poem for a snow day..

A poem by Billy Collins that I feel traps the feeling of a serene snow day..

Snow

I cannot help noticing how this slow Monk solo
seems to go somehow
with teh snow
that is coming down this morning,

how the notes and the spaces accompany
its easy falling
on the geometry of the ground
on the flagstone path,
on the slanted roof,
and the angles of the split-rail fence

as if he had imagined a winter scene
as he sat at the piano
late one night at the Five Spot
playing "Ruby, My Dear,"

Then again, its the kind of song
that would go easily with rain
or a tumult of leaves,

and for that matter it's a snow
that could attend
an adagio for strings,
the best of the Ronettes,
or George Thorogood and the Destroyers.

It falls so indifferently
into the spacious white parlor of the world,
if I were sitting here reading
in silence,
reading the morning paper
or reading Being and Nothingness,
not even letting the spoon
touch inside of the cup,
I have a feeling
the snow would even go perfectly with that.