Whenever a winter storm watch or warning is issued, people--especially ever-cynical New Yorkers like me--wonder, "Is it really going to be all that?" After all, we've heard such forecasts before only to see little more than a few flakes.
Well, this time the National Weather Service, the Governor and Mayor weren't being unnecessarily alarmist. The warning has come true--and, as I write this, the storm isn't nearly over.
William Wordsworth's may have "wandered lonely as a cloud." Would he have stood lonely as a bike parked in a snowstorm? Of course, such a line wouldn't fit into the rhythm and meter of his poem. Perhaps he would have written something different if he'd seen Martie, my commuter on the street, around the corner from my apartment. Hmm...Lonely as Martie? Of course, the poem would have to tell us about her.
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