Okay, so it's been a while. Sometimes when I seem to get caught up ... I take time to reflect ... and yes, I should do that much more often. So I'm thinking now - in retrospect - of Christmas morning 2011 ... awakening before everyone else and strapping on a pair of snowshoes and in the crispness of a three degree morning - walked about a half mile down a creek beside our cabin in the Wolf Creek area of southern Colorado. Many thoughts filled my head that morning... thoughts of blessings realized and true wonder as I listened to the snow-laden aspens creak disrupting the silence of sound absorbed by snow. I paused for a few moments to catch my breath and spoke the following from memory. That was a merry Christmas.
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.
Thank you Robert Frost ... I shall not forget.
Whose woods these are I think I know.