I love this poem, 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’s 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.

Apparently, it was also Frost’s favorite poem. Here’s a great audio rendition of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Enjoy!

And, here’s a picture of me in the woods on a recent trip to Portland.. thoroughly loving every bit of the mossy mosaic around me

In: Mimetic Musings | | #