Out of the bosom of the air, out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Silent and soft and slow descends the snow... (Henry Wadsworth)
We are getting slammed with a Mess In The West... Blizzards. I love it.
Reminds me of when I was a little boy and the first of many times I ever came to
Wyoming.
Will try to leave here in the late afternoon... IF the roads are safe. And I
will write again from Utah and then New Zealand.
But I think of another favorite poet of mine...
IF, in the twilight of memory we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me
a deeper song,
And IF our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.
The snow is lovely soft and deep, but I have miles to go before I sleep and promises to keep
and promises to keep.
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