“Snow, Aldo” by Kate DiCamillo

Once, I was in New York,
in Central Park, and I saw
an old man in a black overcoat walking
a black dog. This was springtime
and the trees were still
bare and the sky was
gray and low and it began, suddenly,
to snow:
big fat flakes
that twirled and landed on the
black of the man’s overcoat and
the black dog’s fur. The dog
lifted his face and stared
up at the sky. The man looked
up, too. “Snow, Aldo,” he said to the dog,
“snow.” And he laughed.
The dog looked
at him and wagged his tail.

If I was in charge of making
snow globes, this is what I would put inside:
the old man in the black overcoat,
the black dog,
two friends with their faces turned up to the sky
as if they were receiving a blessing,
as if they were being blessed together
by something
as simple as snow
in March.

“Snow, Aldo” by Kate DiCamillo. © Kate DiCamillo.


Reader (and Editor) Favorite:

This is both a favorite poem of mine and my friend Archita. I’ve shared it here on March 18, 2015 and in a dog-themed anthology on Words for the Weekend on March 22, 2014.

I share it again in memory of my sweet Spotted girl.

Spot (2/11/06 - 3/17/14)
Spot (2/11/06 – 3/17/14)

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours… (Grogan)

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things-a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.”

~ John Grogan, Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog