Winter Day

stormy winter day

stormy winter day

Stalwart walker that I am, the wailing wind and freezing rain slanted right at me no matter how I turned by the beginning of a trail. It wasn’t a frosty whisper of snow, but an angry icy howl.

Maybe it’ll ease up in a bit I hoped, as I stood by a winter brown tree for protection, I realized no such luck. No. The frosty wind and sleet seared the ground and me. Oh well another day I venture out again for a hike.

I headed home. As I sat with hot tea and comfy slippers I reread this Frost poem with visions of sleigh rides dancing in my head.

    Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    BY 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.

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One response to “Winter Day

  1. Sometimes, things strike a chord and you don’t know why. Maybe it’s the words building a picture in your head or the curiosity of mysteries that the woods hold or something else – whatever the case, this is one of my favorite poems.

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