miles to go

Stopping by 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 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.

Robert Frost

If I was teaching this morning in the extra bedroom (turned into a class room), my two home schoolers would be memorizing this poem.  As a grown up, I am well aware of how helpful poetry can be.   I am grateful that it is somehow, stuck in the back of my mind.  It helps.