Covered in a Blanket

almost 3 years ago

So peaceful, the day is, without nary a sound, save for me as I whisper into the wind. Covered by the blanket of snow, I can feel the delicate layers caressing the trees. It settles softly, as it falls down.

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

You can see beyond the blur, but, can you imagine beyond the field of vision, where there is certainty in the anticipation of things to come? I have been down this path before, a time or three. Each time, there is something new for me to see. A rabbit, a spider, a snowman one time. It's the little delights that make life so nice. Have you ever had a surprise happen to you around a corner? Tell me, do.

The falling of snow, snow falling. There happens to be a real word for it. The word is shinshin. Go ahead. Use in a sentence, I know you want to. Two hive for the most creative, chosen by me on the payout of this post.

I want to thank @tattoodjay for hosting the #WednesdayWalk challenge! Show where you walked today, I want to see what you got to see. I hope you had a fabulous time and I think we should meet up here again next week! Until then, keep on smiling!! If you want to do the challenge, drop him a link on his #WedensdayWalk post so he can try to visit yours! Whatever your day looks like, it is worth a walk through it. You can't always have sunshine and rainbows, but, you can always have a #WednessdayWalk!

Oh, there is a necessity in writing, penning my thoughts, journaling or whatnot – for how else will I capture the moment as it passes; what happens if I should forget those minute details, or worse, what if I forget that moment – to be gone like an exhale on a cold morning?

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

It’s my way. I walk out to the deep end of the page and dive right in.

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I want to thank @tattoodjay for hosting the #WednesdayWalk! Take your walk next Wednesday and you can join too! And just like that, this post is over. Come back tomorrow and we will do it again.

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The Road Not Taken

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.

Robert Frost