Uploaded on August 18, 2011
… I paused and rested on a sort of hook
That had me by the coat as good as seated,
And since there was no other way to look,
Looked up toward heaven, and there against the blue,
Stood over me a resurrected tree,
A tree that had been down and raised again—
A barkless specter. He had halted too,
As if for fear of treading upon me.
I saw the strange position of his hands—
Up at his shoulders, dragging yellow strands
Of wire with something in it from men to men.
“You here?” I said. “Where aren’t you nowadays?”
And what’s the news you carry—if you know?
And tell me where you’re off for—Montreal? …
—Robert Frost
Poetry for Young People: Robert Frost
08.18.2023: Our local electric company has gotten better about keeping the lights on, and I appreciate it. Power outages seldom last longer than an hour or two now. Our first few years here? Days.