Yesterday felt like Christmas – a snow day in the middle of the week!
On 1st Ave and 8th St. at the new “V Bar” (in the old Tribe space) we found a cozy spot with great big windows where we could enjoy the snow as well as some cocktails.
A deep puddle of icy water was hiding under the snow on that very corner and feeling like a kid again because of the snow day, one of my favorite childhood poems came to mind:
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Of course, this sidewalk ended with a deep pool of slush soaking the feet of unlucky pedestrians. Remember, this is NYC.