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.
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Excerpted from Collected Poems by Robert Bly. Copyright © 2018 by Robert Bly. Reprinted with permission of W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.
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Robert Bly
Robert Bly is the author of numerous poetry volumes, as well as works of nonfiction and translation. His honors include the Poetry Society of America’s Frost Medal and the National Book Award. He lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
