Sunday, December 25, 2011
The road less traveled
Late this afternoon, I walked alone.
4 Comments:
By 
John Foster, at
Mon Dec 26, 10:46:00 AM:
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.
-Robert Frost
By Stephen, at
Mon Dec 26, 10:58:00 AM:
A country road. A tree.
Evening.
First words from a play everyone has read.
By 
, at
Mon Dec 26, 05:19:00 PM:
Gorgeous...
Christmas comes and goes.
2012 is nearly here.
Time flies by...
By pam, at
Mon Dec 26, 10:16:00 PM:
"And miles to go..."
Pervect caption, John Foster! And, a lovely picture, TH.
