Ode to Robert Frost
Ode to Robert Frost
My carriage wheels are deep in snow.
My horses head is hanging low.
The hill ahead is hard and steep.
The hay and home is heaven though.
I hold the reigns and do not speak.
He knows the way to hay and sleep.
There’s nothing I could do or say,
To sway him more than wagon squeak.
He sees our house across the way,
With plenty cold to make his play.
He cuts across the neighbours yard,
Knowing I feel old today.
He’ll save a mile after dark.
And with fingers cold, to hold is hard.
He knows that I won’t disagree,
With supper stewing on the hearth.
I drop the reigns to let him lead.
My hands, they hide in sweater sleeves.
The barn is warm, and there’s and mare.
It’s just beyond the cherry trees.
It’s there I’ll leave him cleaned with care,
To sit upon my rocking chair.
His heavy harness taken off,
Along with both the boots I wear.
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