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.
BY ROBERT FROST
Robert Frost, a poet my mother often quoted, came to mind today as I meandered in our woods, stopping to marvel at the white intricate snow patterns dotting the landscape.
Snow reminds me not only of my mother but also how a fresh outlook can change perspective. It can revitalize, energize, and allow a chance to slow down and marvel at the beauty of our world.
A Journey Worth Remembering 