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The Pasture by Robert Frost (1874–1963)

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.

[tamm0449]

Dear Robert,
This precious poetry reminds me of when I lived in the Country with my Grandparents. I remember walking along the creek and seeing it muddy up, then I would stand still and wait for the water to settle and clear up crystal clear again. I also remember when Grandpa's Cows would first have their calves and they would totter and wobble around while learning how to stand still and how to walk. I love the way you place your words to bring back such precious memories. I loved this poem and loved listening to you read it, you reminded me of my Grandfather whom I loved with all of my heart. Thank you,
Sincerely,
tamm0449

[MsJacquiiC]

It's a wonderful reply, and genuine and heartfelt and possibly all the things that this INSIDIOUS ME is not... Robert Frost is dead though. Anyway... I suppose he's indeed poetic genius amongst published geniuses. So It's not surprise at all that you love his work Tamm.

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

J.