Overcast but warm, <br />The day dry, unusually. <br />Walking the woods with the dogs <br />As many times before. <br />Lucy and Tig, away in the rough dark deep, <br />Yipping with the scent of deer, excited. <br />Ruby, river scrambling, biting <br />At the bogwater, wagging, from the shoulders back <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Along the old familiar track, into <br />The clearing where the roads diverge. <br />I stopped and stood. Which way to go? <br />Think of another Poet, and roads not taken. <br />Yes, I’ve been here before. This way I came. <br />That way I saw a squirrel once. <br />And down that way a badger <br />Straight on, the Mill Pond where ducks dabble. <br />Behind me then a stag, stares my way, and <br />Startled, slips into the wood. <br />I think again of Robert Frost and look a different way. <br />I stand a while. I turn, retrace my steps, recall, relive, <br />I’ll write this down, and this will be <br />The road I’ve taken.<br /><br />Martin Swords<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk-in-the-woods-with-robert-frost/
