We are in the midst
of a two-day winter storm.
Whipping winds
and giant snowflakes
kept us inside
for much of the day.
It reminds me
of a favorite poem,
one I’ve known and loved
(thanks to my mom)
since I was very little.
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,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
