The Road Less Traveled

( after Robert Frost )

I saw them once, at first light  
  glistening upon water --
drifting aimlessly, shooting ducks  
  ignorant of slaughter --  
 
Their light-force dwindling rapidly;  
  I wanted to warn them, Run! --  
Sunrise will assimilate you!  
  But, my heart held back words  
 
They appeared content, trusting fate;  
  I could do no more than watch --  
suddenly realizing Death  
  is full payment for Life  
 
What was it I wished for  
( while ignorant of sorrow )
as they plummeted earthward;  
Wisdom, wasn't it . . .
~  
       

thin curtains adorned with leaves hang from tall windows, slightly folding against the chill.    
trees now bare remain still, there is no more rustling of leaves in the wind, just a crackling of boughs adjusting to the falling temperatures  
sun splinters through bare branches casting yellow light that remains cold to the touch, outer limbs stretch steeley fingers grappling for warmth    
heat in the room rises, billowing the golden curtains to rustling the leaves against framed glass where trees can only look on and see what they once had is now locked inside  
 

"Made the great tree seem as a little bird
Before the mystery of glass!"


 
#RobertFrost

Silvicultrix


Just random moves
with
The heart taken out
My love
My eyes
My passion
My respect

All gone
We moan.



Capernoited


Seeds of love
along
The alone tree
with
a lot yet to happen
our love
was divine
was pure
Where are you ?
are you listening ?
My words
My ideals
My love


...................Come soon.........................

Deep in the woods I saw a clearing ever winding into its depths.
Pulled, I was to walk untoward, leveling each untrodden dirt mound.  
I wondered what secrets could it hold, for what could I resist it without regret.  
I had not seen all I desired to see and would by evening yet,  
My resistance to my own curiosity fell in haste to the ground.  
  
I felt a chill come over me, a crisp Autumn pang I imbibed,  
I knew if I did not go forth the snow would bury truths undiscovered, unfound.  
I wondered what was under each leaf, what had I yet not greeted alive.    
To acknowledge this place, only I could, only in this way would I so arrive:  
To greet the magic before a snow would cloak the blanket of leaves so brown.  
   
I knew a road lie beneath it all for the way was open and still,  
As I took each careful step into a world where no one had recently been,  
I saw a way to go ahead, branches were parted, unbroken of will.  
I had ventured forth well beyond my comforting homesteaders mill.  
A tranquility donned, I heard the leaves speaking all in refrain,  
   
Their language uncoded by a swift and lofty breeze;  
My feet gave them voices to amplify theirs, so lowly and spent,
Intuitions the trees had shed became mine in surpassing their color peak.
I chose a path on which to tread, into my own heart not quite out of reach,  
where no soul had yet opened eyes with full vision to plumb its depths.  
   
             .....  
 
       #RobertFrost

I.    December
The clouds came over the valley,
  Bringing the much needed winter rain,
And though we needed it so badly,
I didn’t realize the conditions sadly,
  Would also bring me a bit of pain.

The path between the mountains
  Had been closed due to snow,
And so I found myself surrounded,
By weary travelers also grounded,
  Who had to wait until tomorrow.

But I had made a promise to my son,
  That I would there in the morning,
Some of them turned back one by one,
But I could not sit still or wait for the sun
  The pass was under a weather warning

II.      Under the Stars
As I waited there by the road it seemed
  The hours were so slow,
I could not wait for the first morning light,
  But still the path was under snow.

It felt as if all this I had previously dreamed,
  Waiting there by the road
That this long night held me still,
  My heart carried a heavy load.

And for hours my soul cried and screamed,
  I needed to go see my son,
I had a promise to keep but still,
  Mother Nature’s fury had won.

III.      The Road Not Taken
When the night finally became clear,
It revealed a sky full of bright stars,
All weary travelers began to cheer,
After the weather had been severe,
We could soon start driving our cars.

But still the mountain was dangerous,
Under that heavy blanket of snow,
It was going to be very treacherous,
Even if I wasn’t being adventurous,
But I had a promise, so I drove very slow.

At first I thought I was mistaken,
When halfway through the pass I got lost,
Then I remembered and became shaken,
There was a safer road I could have taken,
Now I’m in the path of a serious Frost.

#RobertFrost

Two tear-rivers diverged in a dark wood,  
And sorry I could not dam it both    
And be it I’ve longed to change; I should,      
And with parting eyelids, as far as I could      
To where I tear in the rain;    
     
Then locked both the eyelids, as just as teary,      
And quench perhaps their better cry,      
Because it was thundery, and wanted misery;    
Though as for that within the passing the rain I was sly    
Had falling tear-showers really be from the sinking sky,      
     
And both his eyes on the world equally keen    
In rain no tears had trodden seen.      
Oh, sorrowed storms hid his bursting poetic-stream!    
Yet knowing how sobbing leads onto wandering,      
If ever should come back the sun, he’d be gone.    
     
I shall be telling this with a hesitance    
But somewhere ages and ages ago he died:    
Two tear-rivers diverged in his poetic, blizzardy-mind,    
Succumbing to the one less sufferance    
And that has solaced all the difference.      
 
 
#RobertFrost

Whereby each flake of downy transience  
Aloof, finds not earthly sense,  
But to land, it is recieved:  
Conforms to its ground on a patchworked fence.  

A farmhouse afar is a block enshrouded  
Never moving to find us of it clouded,  
Housing each protected hay-bale and beast to serve us  
It waits so unmoved and ever so grounded.  
 
As my steps sink ever lower to reach  
A half-frozen sod to soak my feet  
I think of how well the barn keeps dry,  
I wonder how much like us, its woodwork is incomplete.  
 
A crystalline scene, I blink back the cold  
Eyelashes frosted, of the shelter be told:  
Let me be out here instead,  
I need not anywhere yet to lay my head.  
 
          .....  
 
#RobertFrost  
 
(A second entry/non-entry)