Today is Boxing Day, or St. Stephen’s Day, or simply the day after Christmas. It is a day for winding down, and this year it’s a Sunday, which makes it perfect, absolutely perfect.

There’s snow on the ground, which made it a white Christmas, also perfect. And, there’s more snow brewing, a not unexpected weather occurrence in these days after the Winter Solstice. Those who foretell such events are promising 20 inches or more, which is wondrous and magical.

Since I started off the season with Robert Frost, and since he often wrote about snow, I offer another from him today. But, first, I want you all to Save the Date for the Massachusetts Poetry Festival, coming up on May 13 and 14, 2011 in Salem. The planners have all kinds of great poetry, songs, workshops and more on the agenda. Check it out.

And, as promised, a wintry poem.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

…

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

…

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.