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.
Woke up to a delightful snowfall, blanketing the world with a shimmering hue of wonder and delight. Immediately I thought of this poem, then grabbed my camera to snap this pic (1/17s; 6400 ISO; f/1.6).
When the weather gets a little intense that means some extra work around the house. Now that I’m sitting my eyes have become mighty droopy and need some time to doodle and ponder.
I hope all is going well for you, and that the light of the upcoming full moon is shining loving support all around.
Much love,
KEU
* 39 days
Kim Upton 