As winter settles in and the holidays come and go, we hope you’re taking small moments (or big ones) to slow down, rest and recharge. Of course, we recommend letting poetry be your guide.
Here’s a snowy poem by Robert Bly, via our Poetry 180 program, to nudge you in that direction.
Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around, I will waste more time.
—Robert Bly (from Silence in the Snowy Fields, 1962. Wesleyan University Press, with permission.)
Season’s greetings from your literary friends at the Library of Congress. We’ll see you in 2022!