Things haven't been easy lately, to say the least. I've had some very, very dark days. Yesterday was one of them. I've managed to make it through another night, sleepless though it was, and I now sit on the back porch listening to the world wake up as I try to remember the seemingly endless list of things I need to accomplish.
There is a poem I've always liked by Robert Frost. Lately it has taken on new meaning for me. Before I set out to tackle my list, I thought I'd share it with you.
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.
The last verse is very much my favorite, and I find myself lately repeating it often.
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