Think on This

 

A Time to Talk

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.

Comments

[Eleanor]

That is simply beautiful. Especially in this day, when people can sometimes treat others as an inconvience instead of a treasure.