It snowed ten inches in New Orleans yesterday-
That’s ten more inches than we get most years-
And gave the city an impromptu holiday,
A joyful breeze that chilled our undried tears.
We speak the language of precipitation
But not this dialect. We know of flood
But not of flurry or accumulation,
And frost’s not often what has chilled our blood.
But in a city mourning New Year’s tragedy,
Where bitter memories still haunt our sleep,
A snow day brought an unexpected melody,
Reminding us we will not always weep,
For songs that seemed forgotten in the night
Were found again and sung in winter’s light.

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My friend Gary Myers wrote about how New Orleans needed a snow day this year, highlighting the news anchors who covered this day just weeks after covering a tragedy. I kept thinking about that observation, about the juxtaposition of tragedy and joy, and it led to this poem.