Thursday, April 10, 2008

Poets. Robert Frost.

A Time to Talk
by Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

When I get all hyped over something, to calm myself I go back to the poems. Especially Robert Frost. Dude just reaches me. Enjoy.


Anonymous said...

Beautiful. I wish times were more like that.

Oceanshaman said...

I so dig Frost . . . cool post . . .