Up to the stone wall

by chuckofish

It’s Friday again–do you have plans for the weekend?

Me neither. I have been reading some poetry. Here’s one:

A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

–Robert Frost (1974-1963)

And I thought this was actually funny…