Wednesday poetry break

The rain is pouring down outside, the sump pump is running furiously. Although I know it too has its drawbacks, at the moment I am dreaming of a New England winter ....

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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.

— Robert Frost

Wednesday poetry break: It's snowing, and the sky is falling!

I love snow, but I don't love driving in it. Actually, that's not true. If all the idiots on the road would stay home I wouldn't mind it at all.

Oh, sorry 'bout that bit of bitterness. The first snowfall this morning meant my morning commute was 2 hours. That put me in a kinda sour mood. Let's get right to the poetry, shall we?

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

— Robert Frost

Wednesday Poetry Break

Today is my parents anniversary, and yes I should know exactly how many years, but if you read my previous post, you'll see I'm still a little hazy, so let's just say it's about 53? Several more than fifty, at any rate! So in honor of their anniversary, I'm sharing a poem that I read more years ago than I'd like to admit at the wedding of my dear friends Kathy and Martin. Enjoy!

The Master Speed

No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have a speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will.
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still—
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar

— Robert Frost