Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening

Hello,

Every once in a while I get tired. Poetry brings me back from the abyss. Frost was born in 1874 in San Francisco. As a dyed in the wool barbarian I have little time for most 20th century American Poets but I like Robert Frost. He disproves the notion that poets are flakes and communists. A number of years ago I decided I wanted to celebrate Christmas in a different way. I backpacked on snowshoes into the mountains in North Central Pennsylvania. There was 18 inches of new snow when I started and after I made camp Christmas eve it started to snow again. As a backpacker I did not use camp fires and made it a point to leave nothing but foot prints. Christmas morning I was woken up by a red fox sniffing around my camp. This poem always brings back memories of that Christmas. I nearly died on that trip but that is another story. It takes a little spice to make dinner taste better.

Best wishes,
Barry

Usage

Permission is hereby given to copy the HTML version of poems in Representative Poetry On-line for non-commercial educational uses, that is, for teaching, research, and study, as long as copyright information is not removed from any Representative Poetry On-line file and as long as no charge is made for use of the collection.

© The editors, the Department of English (University of Toronto), and the University of Toronto Press, 1998.

For Further Reading:

Thanks and best wishes,

J. Barry O'Connell Jr.

Index to JBOC's Rug Notes

Index

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

Q

R

S

T

U

V

W

X

Y

Z