These times are trying indeed….one pellet, then two, the third sneaks up on you…not full shots, just little annoying hits, trying to take one off course. But my course is clear, it always has been….though the road I travel keeps changing.
And it is this time of year I think of Robert Frost. His words transport me in a lovely and needed way. There is always help. We need just look around and more importantly, within.
I have always preferred the woods.
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 sounds 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.
BB Webb