The road not taken...
A tip one way or the other. The sun is strong, even in Winter. The wind blows in from the sea. Just a tip one way or the other. Like a supersaturated solution, the mixture is ready to crystallize and settle out for the long run. Ready to make it real. Just waiting for a word. That's all it would take. Just a "yes," and the world would be realigned. A brief silence. A pause to look at the sky. The moment is gone. Praise be for roads not taken.
The Road Not Taken
--Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
The sun is up over Mount Nittany. I have French Roast in the coffee urn. All is well.