@ 27.105 MHz: Snow Day, School Closed

Clad in a bulky sweater and baggy slacks,

cascades of tight, soft curls spilling all over his shoulders,

he occupies the upstairs window seat, a

private place for him; comfortably barefoot.  Collected poems

open upon his lap; pages dog-eared, much marked by him;

what those of his classmates who are haters

call "them damned homosekshul rhymes."  Continuing to

blanket the whole town, small and isolated as it is, the

snow fall---dancing riotously just outside the window pane---

has closed the schools.  For the storm's duration,

corridors will not resonate with the sound of bullies' taunting.

His beauty disturbs their limited understanding, and the

exquisite delicacy of his feelings eludes it altogether.

He smiles that the varsity track team captain

has asked for some extra curricular assistance to study; and the

need in the athlete's eyes conveyed more than

mere would could describe, if they had even dared

(that was a difficult time and place for so many).  As

flakes continue to accumulate, and their

descent continues to accelerate,

he polishes his toenails---the enamel deeply cerulean, to

match the color of his tresses, almost perfectly.

Thugs may beat him up, again, when next the classes resume;

but today the weather has thwarted them this day; this day of

peace, other's poetry, and his adolescent pulchritude.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Based upon a revery of my own, during snow days in early January, 1971, which was my seventh grade year.  As in my imagined memory, the main character in the poem is in high school.

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patriciajj's picture

This immersive and delicate

This immersive and delicate poem is deceptively simple—I was enthralled by how intricate and rich with meaning it was beneath its tender surface. The falling snow is an angelic presence: a refuge, a sanctuary from an oppressive world, a healing and pristine beauty that can be a dazzling savior or a prison depending on who you are. 


Here, it "dances riotously" outside his fortress, understands him as no vapid, slack-jawed, small-town yahoo ever could, while he continues with his blissful routine and is free to be the beautiful and blessed soul that he is. 


An invitation to believe that we are loved for who we are. 

Starward's picture

Thank you so very much for

Thank you so very much for reading the poem, and for that fine and insightful comment.  And thank you for overlooking the several typographical and spelling errors.  The last few days prior to yesterday had been difficult due to the procedure looming up, but it went unusually well yesterday---prayer answered!---but I am embarrassed that I did not do better keyboarding this poem.  I have corrected the errors, and will try to do better next time.


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patriciajj's picture

No need for embarrassment. I

No need for embarrassment. I completely understand, and it happens to me even though I have no excuse. Still praying. Take care. 

Starward's picture

Thank you---for your tolerant

Thank you---for your tolerant understanding, and for your prayers.  I think your prayers are very effective in helping me to get through those difficulties.  Next month's session may bring the consideration of possible pending surgery, not sure yet.


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