February 10, 2013

A Snowy Morning






Whose garage this is I think I know.
His mind is focused elsewhere though;  
He will not see me stopping here  
As he curses at the snow.  

My little horse must think it queer  
To stop without a tavern near  
Between the woods and frozen lake  
The coldest morning 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 snow shovel and downy flake.  

The drive is lovely, long and steep.  
The dude has promises to keep,  
And drifts to shovel before he sleeps,  
And drifts to shovel before he sleeps.




3 comments:

  1. Well at least I stimulated you to write another poem for our amusement, Mr. Frost.

    ReplyDelete


  2. I hope you have some rum before you sleep.
    I hope you have some rum before you sleep.


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That sounds eerily similar to my routine

      Delete