A Time To Talk – Poem by Robert Frost

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

At age eight my son asked me what it was like in the covered-wagon days? I explained I wasn’t quite that old. Frost’s poem speaks to a different era, but I want my friends to know I will stop and listen.

I am grateful. In this moment I send out a blessing to you.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: