The Warmth of the Season
Approximate average reading time is 3.5 minutes. The poem, Snow in the Suburbs, was written by Thomas Hardy. This poem is in the public domain.
Snow in the Suburbs
Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute:
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again.
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.
A sparrow enters the tree,
Whereon immediately
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eye
And overturns him,
And near inurns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.
The steps are a blanched slope,
Up which, with feeble hope,
A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin;
And we take him in.
I love this poem. It’s so accessible. It’s easy for me to imagine Thomas Hardy sitting at a desk in his office or library contemplating the beauty of a heavy snowfall from the warmth of his home. We have all done the same thing. Awakening in the morning and opening the drapes to a beautiful white world that pauses us at least for a moment or two. Something about the poem brings me great comfort. I think it’s the cat, that black body in sharp contrast to the all the whiteness, looking a little skinny and perhaps hopeful that the great door will open. And, it does. Welcoming bliss!
Beverly and Rich take such care to create a similar environment at medica--one that feels warm, safe, and welcoming to every person who walks through the door. They take pride in the privilege of being able to care for you. We wish you a peaceful, contemplative holiday season, and we’ll be waiting to care for you in the new year. Our very best wishes to all of you.
