Sunday Poetry Series

Greetings All,

Welcome to another edition of the Sunday Poetry Series.

Our first serious winter snowfall came yesterday and although this is my fifth winter in this beautiful mountain forest, after my years in Houston, I am still enchanted by watching the snow fall. What a gift and a blessing it is to live in such a magical place.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.

Peace Y'all