Saturday, October 21, 2017

~Final Autumn~

Final Autumn
Maple leaves turn black in the courtyard.
Light drives lower and one bluejay crams
our cold memories out past the sun,


each time your traces come past the shadows
and visit under my looking-glass fingers
that lift and block out the sun.


Come—I’ll trace you one final autumn,
and you can trace your last homecoming
into the snow or the sun.







Wednesday, October 18, 2017

~The Road Not Taken~

The Road Not Taken
BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,










And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.