I was going to make a more obvious reference to Robert Frost

only to realize that I had done so no more than 3 pages ago! DAG!

 

And he's a Dartmouth-er!  What a big green shame. Hehe.


Often times we're lazy, It seems to stand in my way
Cause no one (no, not no one,) Likes to be let down...
...
 
 
I am battling a major case of ire presently. 
Listening to the chill playlist isn't working. 
 
And I'm thinking I won't be soothed over, like smoothed over like milk. 
(Silk, a bedspread, or a quilt, icing on a cake, or a serene translucent lake.)
 
 
 There is a part of me that knows that if I let loose a string of expletives 
there would be a feeling of somewhat better that might come over me, 
but I promised myself long ago that I'd keep this place rated G 
since it's not anonymous, and I know kids who like the pictures 
and I'm generally not into working too blue.    
Consequently, here is some calming Robert instead.
 
...
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
 
 
...and you thought I couldn't get through without mentioning 
Survivor or Natalie Merchant.  HA!   Abra-Abracadabra.
And now I'll be humming Freeze-Frame all day.