0 Comments
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy EveningWhose 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. I am the owner of my choices.
I am the source for the perspectives I choose to hold... regardless of how aware I am of why or how I come to possess that particular perspective. It takes courage to look into the mirror of our souls, absent excuses. I will look into that mirror little bits at a time. SEE and ACT. SEE what I can bear to see and ACT upon what I am able. This is the heart of a gentle invitation to personal responsibility. ~Mary Anne Radmacher I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow "The joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you." ~John Greenleaf Whittier12/23/2019 The Christmas Gift Poem
It isn't the flowing ribbons, draped and curled with extra care, or the fine and fancy bows tied with ornamental flair. It isn't the label on the box, the sum of money spent, or anything that shows the length to which you obviously went. The beauty of a Christmas gift cannot be seen at all. For the loveliness of giving is a feeling, grand and tall. It's the genuine offer of love, the yearning to make a connection, a show of honest gratitude, a display of sincere affection. ~Anon |
Categories
All
Categories
All
|