Poetry Wednesday

Because I feel like it. I never seem to post on Fridays anymore so today will be a Poetry Wednesday. It rained yesterday and for some odd reason I felt like going out hiking. I've been enjoying the rain (mostly because it isn't snow) and am feeling very energetic. I've been waking up earlier and earlier on the weekends and going out walking. I've walk through snow and rain and mud and clear blue days. But unlike my poem for the day, one of the few times I don't walk is at night. Not sure why, I just hate walking in the evenings.

But it's still a great poem.

Acquainted With the Night

by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain--and back in rain.

I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry

Came over houses from another street.

But not to call me back or say good-by;

And further still at an unearthly height

One luminary clock against the sky.

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.

I have been one acquainted with the night.

Poetry Friday for my Sister

I have a great family. I'm blessed in that I enjoy spending time with my family and that I can count them not only as family but as friends as well. I've been spending a bit of time lately with my little sister and have been loving it. She's one of the most encouraging and giving people I know. She always has a kind word for everyone. She's incredibly smart and always has great book or music suggestions for me. Half of my good music collection comes from her. She's just one of the most wonderful people and I'm so excited that I've gotten to see so much of her these last couple weeks.

We were sitting out having coffee recently and she mentioned that she's never read this poem. So Emilie, this one's for you. It gives me chills to read it again. Robert Frost is a master.

Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

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.