The Promise
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, Robert Frost Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Prologue I made my promise suddenly at the end of an hour long sit spot on a windy, bitterly cold January afternoon. Surrounded by brown and gray, dead and dormant winter trees I felt a need to see the symmetry of the seasons. I promised to return during the first week of June when the forest was reborn,…