The Drift Not Chosen

Two routes hidden by white snow drifted,

And aware I could not beat or heat

And as I was alone, I waited

And figure-8 scanned it not skated

To the point where drift met the dark street;

 

Then scanned back towards less blanketed grass,

And guessing perhaps the better way,

Because the soil absorbs more liquid mass;

These boots could not traverse with sass

Plowed up high icy mounds to stay,

 

And both ways that afternoon would show

In which no step ventured attack,

Oh, I kept the “sidewalk” undisturbed, ho!

Yet knowing without shovels like whoa,

I doubted if next week I would trek back.

 

I could tell this while rolling my eye,

Online hours and hours me:

Two routes hidden in a drift, and I–

I took the one less covered by,

And that kept me on my safe way weee.

 

 

Note: Inspired by a favorite poem of mine, The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.

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