Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

mikefifield — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 03:11:19 +0000

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Too often we are scared.

mikefifield — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 10:04:39 +0000

Too often we are scared.
Scared of what we might not be able to do.
Scared of what people might think if we tried.
We let our fears stand in the way of our hopes.
We say no when we want to say yes.
We sit quietly when we want to scream.
And we shout with the others, when we should keep our mouths shut.

Why?

After all,we do only go around once.
There’s really no time to be afraid.

So stop.

Try something you’ve never tried. Risk it. Enter a triathlon.
Write a letter to the editor. Demand a raise.
Call winners at the toughest court. Throw away your television.
Bicycle across the United States.
Try bobsledding.

Try anything.

Speak out against the designated hitter.
Travel to a country where you don’t speak the language.
Patent something.
Call her.
You have nothing to lose and everything everything everything to gain.

Barry Sanders

The Circling Sky » Thoughts

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Too often we are scared.