Hour #2: A Line From Robert Frost

The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
Summer Interrupted
Winter’s deepest peace was designed to gather strength for summer,
the time for hardest work.
So were my reflections remembering my horse that winter evening.
We kept our commitments which swept over us, yes.
We nestled in at night, breathing in crisp winds that woke our souls.
We let the downy flake fall over our homes like delicate lace.
So we let winter snow turn to spring’s fresh dew.
Little did we know the summer’s storms would destroy our toils;
the sheltering barn would collapse, and the growing fields would burn.
All we had prepared
were really prayers
like silent angels
gently coming to us
on that clear winter night.
These golden tidal waves have stolen our sleep’s cherished dreams.
All strength must go into grasping daily survival.
Life we had prepared for has been interrupted,
yet my horse and I force ourselves onward, and
colors will deepen again,
we’ll grow new depths of silent majesty,
and we’ll again find the holy nights for soft bells as we sleep.

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