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February 13, 2006
If Robert Frost Lived in Manhattan . . . .
Rick Brookhiser:
STOPPING BY THE BANK ON A SNOWY EVENINGWhat block this is I do not know.
The storefront windows stare and glow.
The plows will have a job to clear
The street when it fills up with snow.The Indian cabbie thinks it queer
To keep the meter running here
Between Park Avenue and Lex
The dirtiest evening of the year.A weary dispatcher directs
By radio where he must go next.
The only other sound's the swash
Of windshield wipers badly flexed.For once, things look demure not brash.
But I need an ATM with cash
Before I can go home and crash,
Before I can go home and crash.
Judith | 02/13/06 at 11:30 PM | Categories: NYC
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Comments
Burrrr. Now that is cold !
Paul | February 14, 2006 09:10 AM
That's wonderful.
Rachel | February 14, 2006 09:07 PM
REPLY TO RICK BROOKHISER'S STOPPING BY A BANK ON A SNOWY EVENING
[Barney Black]
Whose poem is this? I think I know.
He lives in Greenwich Village, though.
It seems to me it's very clear,
His cup of tea isn't snow.
In old Vermont we'd think it queer
To take a cab and pay a fare
A trip to an ATM to make,
At this most beautiful time of year.
'Tween glistening woods and icy lake,
We'd ski to the Bank, make no mistake.
Along cross-country trails we'd sweep,
Our faces kissed by falling flake.
And so, my friend, don't be lost,
Be not by wind and blizzard toss'd,
May all your snows be only Frosts,
May all your snows be only Frosts.
Barney Black | February 15, 2006 05:40 PM
Enjoyed Brookhiser's and Black's poems. Move over, Robert Frost!
Margaret | February 16, 2006 02:55 PM
