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A Walk In The Woods With Robert Frost
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Overcast but warm,
The day dry, unusually.
Walking the woods
with the dogs
As many times before.
Lucy and Tig, away in the rough dark
deep,
Yipping with the scent of deer, excited.
Ruby, river scrambling,
biting
At the bogwater, wagging, from the shoulders back
Along
the old familiar track, into
The clearing where the roads diverge.
I
stopped and stood. Which way to go?
Think of another Poet, and roads not
taken.
Yes, I’ve been here before. This way I came.
That way I saw a
squirrel once.
And down that way a badger
Straight on, the Mill Pond where
ducks dabble.
Behind me then a stag, stares my way, and
Startled, slips
into the wood.
I think again of Robert Frost and look a different way.
I
stand a while. I turn, retrace my steps, recall, relive,
I’ll write this
down, and this will be
The road I’ve taken.
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