March drabbles - 11
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—” * I wandered two roads, Three or four or five. Two roads I saw and spring new-sprung and bright Was waving rainbowed silken sheens on one while ice In winter’s dark lay shadowed Sunless hallowed on the next. Two roads and vexed I wondered where to go. The summer’s light poured warmth and heat— I saw it shimmer slightly with the day— Two roads and fallen leaves and blight And scents of loss; the mulched decay Of fall. Two roads and more diverging call to me and I— I’ve lost my way. * Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken