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.

This morning I went round to my mate Rob’s house to catch up with him and his chickens. He brought one of them inside for me to meet and I chatted with the brown chicken for as long as was humanly possible. Naturally the conversation with Rob turned from chickens to comedy. I said something that he said was an interpretation of a dream he had had where he was walking along a path and he could see all around him except directly in front of him. I had said that everyone is on their own path and has to be brave enough to walk down their own path. He said he didn’t know exactly what lay ahead of him because it was his path and only he was walking it. It takes courage to look around and see other people walking their own path or walking as a group on other people’s paths, but for some truly unique people it is important for them to walk their own path to help provide the world with uniqueness and variety and to help keep everyone else moving forward along their path, or leadership. Rob has 4 chickens including a black Spanish one who he has named with a long, impressive sounding Spanish name, 2 brown ones and a white one. For some reason I'd imagined them all to be white but I was probably just thinking of my favorite peom by William Carlos Williams,

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.