Kat with a K

A Bloggers' (Silent) Poetry Reading

This midwinter poetry celebration is the brainchild of Grace's Poppies. This is probably my favorite winter poem, and it seems particularly apropos these days when I leave the house by eight and don't get home until midnight:

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.

It's Robert Frost, of course, via the Favorite Poem Project.