Stopping by woods

through the camera I am small and the world is large and fascinating
again
locked in
looking out

stopping
in the back of my mind words of a poem* that I cannot remember
snow
the rhythm relentless
the only other sound's the sweep
the meaning ingrained
the woods stopping
lovely, dark and deep.
promises to keep.

And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

snow
a soft blanket of oblivion



* Stopping by woods on a snowy evening by Robert Frost.