I have a distinct talent for wishing for winter all summer and summer all winter. Today, we had real snowfall in DC, a rare and strange surprise. There was no sign of it by mid-afternoon, but the office felt like the inside of a snowglobe this morning.
I think my Midwestern roots have taught me how to conjure up a physical memory summer even when — especially when — the snow is flying. Tim Nolan is a poet from Minneapolis, and the poem below is proof he gets it.
Long Winter – Tim Nolan
So much I’ve forgotten
the grass
the birds
the close insects
the shoot—the drip—
the spray of the sprinkler
freckles—strawberries—
the heat of the Sun
the impossible
humidity
the flush of your face
so much
the high noon
the high grass
the patio ice cubes
the barbeque
the buzz of them—
the insects
the weeds—the dear
weeds—that grow
like alien life forms—
all Dr. Suessy and odd—
here we go again¬—
we are turning around
again—this will all
happen over again—
and again—it will—
