The deep mid-winter

The frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind.
                                               (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Sometimes I think I have a hibernating bear inside me, 

for the instinct to withdraw and sleep

is so very strong in me during winter.

When I creep out into

the cold and sullen winter day I wonder...

"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.

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.

...then, I return to the comfort of hearth and home...

and ponder the intecracies of love and life.