We skipped the beginning of the month jargon on Friday, so you’ll have to pretend this is the first day of October.
October, for me is the month of colors, the autumn colors that are so often impossible to describe. The days of apple picking, pumpkin patches and hay rides in the country.
Today, is also my day of reflection.
I ramble a great deal. It is my need. For in the rambling is etched the carvings that read me, the notes that sound me.
October is also a good time to introduce you to two more of my amazing guests, one is a local gal, the other is the epitome of modern relations … a cyber friend.
Each of them has taken a different route to their personal goals as writers. It will be interesting to read how they arrived at the blank page and what manner of etchings they will leave for us.
To celebrate the joys of the solitary journey, I present to you my most endearing poem about personal choice, The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost. Please enjoy.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference
I am fOIS In The City
Photo credit here.