Stopping By

hwy 93 glides up into the misty grey where billowing black shifting clouds shroud the moon like pirate sails wheels and metal destined for what is forever slipping away yet drawing nigh so gentle and so kind stopping by the horizon on a summer's eve "because it could not stop for me" * (if you read poetry) sage hills roll on long after I'm gone From "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost