Robert Bly (born December 23, 1926) is an American poet, author, activist and leader of the mythopoetic men’s movement. His most commercially successful book to date was Iron John: A Book About Men (1990), a key text of the mythopoetic men’s movement, which spent 62 weeks on The New York Times Best Seller list. He won the 1968 National Book Award for Poetry for his book The Light Around the Body. (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)
I loved this poem because I know just how he was feeling. Not about the snow. I don’t drive in snow any more than I have to. But about the privacy. When I was in high school I used to have a hard time unwinding at night. It was not uncommon for me to get in the car at 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. and drive along the mountain road above my parents’ house just to have some peace and quiet and privacy. (I shared a bedroom with my sister!) I felt that again as I read Bly’s poem… (You can see Mountain Rd. slithering like a snake up the left side of this picture.) Those little drives kept me going through high school and college.
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.