No Robert Frost Poem by Ima Ryma

I'm driving on a country road,
Heading for a village to do
Some business stuff, but now it's snowed
Deep, I get stuck while driving through
Some woods, and now I find my phone
Has got no bars to call for aid.
Not a good time for a dead zone.
A day pf promise starts to fade.
My being late no doubt will mean
A lot of money will be lost.
Prisoner in this winter scene,
I do not feel like Robert Frost.

I remember a farmhouse back.
Hope I can follow my tire track.