{"id":2786,"date":"2021-02-05T12:13:53","date_gmt":"2021-02-05T16:13:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?p=2786"},"modified":"2021-02-05T12:13:58","modified_gmt":"2021-02-05T16:13:58","slug":"nymysteries-com-20","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/nymysteries.com\/?p=2786","title":{"rendered":"NYMYSTERIES.COM"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n \n \"Fb-Button\"\n <\/a>\n <\/div>
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SNOW! We have had a mild winter until this past week. Lots of weather chatter and talk about staying inside. After Monday\u2019s big storm snowmen – oops – snow people cropped up. The adventurous, not the snow people,  took to Central Park and Thompkins Square Park. Most of us saw the giant pandas, Mei Xiang and Tian Tian, sliding down a snowy incline and loving it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Thompkins Square Park<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Snowy Night by Mary Oliver<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last night, an owl<\/p>\n\n\n\n

in the blue dark<\/p>\n\n\n\n

tossed<\/p>\n\n\n\n

an indeterminate number<\/p>\n\n\n\n

of carefully shaped sounds into<\/p>\n\n\n\n

the world, in which,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

a quarter of a mile away, I happened<\/p>\n\n\n\n

to be standing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t tell<\/p>\n\n\n\n

which one it was \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n

the barred or the great-horned<\/p>\n\n\n\n

ship of the air \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n

it was that distant. But, anyway,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

aren\u2019t there moments<\/p>\n\n\n\n

that are better than knowing something,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and sweeter? Snow was falling,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

so much like stars<\/p>\n\n\n\n

filling the dark trees<\/p>\n\n\n\n

that one could easily imagine<\/p>\n\n\n\n

its reason for being was nothing more<\/p>\n\n\n\n

than prettiness. I suppose<\/p>\n\n\n\n

if this were someone else\u2019s story<\/p>\n\n\n\n

they would have insisted on knowing<\/p>\n\n\n\n

whatever is knowable \u2013 would have hurried<\/p>\n\n\n\n

over the fields<\/p>\n\n\n\n

to name it \u2013 the owl, I mean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it\u2019s mine, this poem of the night,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and I just stood there, listening and holding out<\/p>\n\n\n\n

my hands to the soft glitter<\/p>\n\n\n\n

falling through the air. I love this world,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

but not for its answers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I wish good luck to the owl,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

whatever its name \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and I wish great welcome to the snow,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

whatever its severe and comfortless<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and beautiful meaning.
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Ann Heron Central Park<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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