The Wood-Pile Comments

I like to walk along with Robert Frost as he shares his view of nature and the hidden things of mind and heart. Often I see his view of the solitary observer of nature and his inner conflicts and solutions of mind. Often I feel called within myself to journey along the pastures and wooden trails and put all my question there. A life time of walks with Robert have opened many secrets of the heart and soul. Shall we go for a breath of fresh air.

A small bird flew before me. He was careful To put a tree between us when he lighted, And say no word to tell me who he was Who was so foolish as to think what he thought. He thought that I was after him for a feather - The white one in his tail; like one who takes Everything said as personal to himself. One flight out sideways would have undeceived him. And then there was a pile of wood for which I forgot him and let his little fear Carry him off the way I might have gone, Without so much as wishing him good-night. He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piled - and measured, four by four by eight. And not another like it could I see. No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it. And it was older sure than this year's cutting, Or even last year's or the year's before.~ ......penned so well I thought I was there walking through the snow and watching the little bird follow us....enjoyed much