Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening 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 … Continue reading Stopping By…Frost
Flea Market snowshoes had been my last hope. And, I knew well enough, falling up would be easier to achieve than down. Both being a natural achievement that comes with little sound. Still! There had been an organic urge. The kind set within a pit. Lit up. Flamed and encouraged. All of the elements wound … Continue reading Flea Market Snowshoe
An arbitration of none... Stop enjoying the cold. Or... Stop and enjoy the cold. No more than a philosophy... than a pervasive frame of mind. New Hampshire elements do not mix with that which is... gentle or kind. I can take the small drippings of arctic awe. Or... transcend into an illusion of temperate novelty.
We powered along to no avail. In the hopes of finding our summer trail. Snow had become our footprint's falling grace. Silly the vanity that overcomes me during the nighttime hour. Acquiring all my sanity. By morning's light, the dogs and I, have been relieved of all that common sense binds. Thus, a daily morning … Continue reading Breaching the Wintry Sanctuaries
An exercise in futility. Trudging over open snow. Lonesome for place in which to go. To reminisce... while the quiet, that envelopes me. If only the silence held... For all to witness. For particles of elements. The slimmest of hopes... To see. Still I struggle with a snow stroll. And, still I will walk, long … Continue reading Lonesome is the Snow