Cathi, Martin and I came across a folder of poems my Dad had printed out from the internet and I gave a little gasp because he had recited some of them to me one evening a few weeks ago. And asked me to read them aloud. I would like to share this one with you, because it gives me comfort that my father can rest now.

Yet I feel like the little whinnying horse still, asking if there has been some mistake…

Stopping by 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.