We're currently on holiday touring the East coast of the US. I've been posting about our travels on Tales of a Kitchen Herbwife. One of the accidental places we visited was the Robert Frost Museum and Poetry Centre in Franconia. This is my tribute to the poet.
The Frost Place
Your woods I walked today
Red apples shimmering in the sun
Birch and fir tall sentinels
Maple and alder lining the ground with red and gold.
Fat raindrops fell glistening from branches
White stoles wrapped themselves around mountains
As we sat on your porch
Edged with purple aster
Four years of your life laid out within the modest home.
You found it too cold to grow
In dark, New Hampshire winters
Forty four acres not enough
To feed your growing family
You thought to farm
Bur your successful pen brought better fruit
Sat beside the fire
Writing of bending birch
Discarded apples on trees
Your arms and shoulders aching from their picking.
Yet you knew your fields
Sweet whispers of scythes
Penned for your posterity
You left the hay to make itself
Hopeful of summer's heat
As we stood
Grateful for sun,
A welcome respite from torrential rain
Allowing us to walk in your woods
Share in your works
Drinking the colours of fall
Amidst white mountains.