January 17-18, 2020, in Detroit, we went from bare grass to about 6" of snow. While watching it come down, my brain connected to Edgar Allan Poe, whose birthday is on January 19. And so I produced this little whimsy for his birthday. For a more serious Poe poem, you can enjoy my ode to him from 2016 by clicking here.
If Poe Could Only See the Snow
Oh, if he could only see the snow,
That long-gone Edgar Allan Poe,
Would it surprise him? Yes, or no?
Would it occur to give him woe?
For on his birthday, it would seem
That snowflakes fly and snowflakes gleam.
And while from other worlds he dreams,
We're wrapped in white and cold extremes.
But hope abounds upon this day,
Beneath the clouds, beneath the gray.
While streets would call for horse and sleigh,
The spring is not so far away.
Two months, perhaps, I must agree,
But days are longer, can't you see?
While Poe goes on in realms carefree,
The sun returns in victory.
That long-gone Edgar Allan Poe,
Would it surprise him? Yes, or no?
Would it occur to give him woe?
For on his birthday, it would seem
That snowflakes fly and snowflakes gleam.
And while from other worlds he dreams,
We're wrapped in white and cold extremes.
But hope abounds upon this day,
Beneath the clouds, beneath the gray.
While streets would call for horse and sleigh,
The spring is not so far away.
Two months, perhaps, I must agree,
But days are longer, can't you see?
While Poe goes on in realms carefree,
The sun returns in victory.
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