Running in the snow
Wednesday, December 31st, 2008This is JUST what it was like running this evening. Up on a hill, a vacant lot whose owners are non-residents — my dog wondering why we stopped for a moment to listen to an owl just as the sun set – - -
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











