In the stillness of the mountains
A fading sunset
slips from the horizon
A round moon
nods in passing as it rises
to settle at its post above the peaks
Even the breeze has hushed its sighing
Pine trees share a branch-tip touch
As if to end aloneness for a time
A million stars shine in the heavens
in tribute to the sleeping sun
The struggles for this day are done
On the way to somewhere else
they met, briefly, on the road not taken,
not the one mistakenly referred to
as the road less traveled.
Two different roads entirely and
there was no map. So many detours:
walks in the rain; a searching;
a discovering and a letting go.
That’s not to say there was no pain,
a pebble in the shoe, a bruise.
Houses that were never built
stand empty in the memory.
All that didn’t happen
just a paving for the road taken.
Noon sun in a feral burn,
evening laced with starlight,
A garden planted, the bloom
tended. It was more than random,
less than premeditated.
That’s how it happened.
Critics claim that Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” isn’t a salute to can-do individualism; it is a commentary on the self-deception we practice when constructing the story of our own lives. It is touted as the most popular poem ever written in America and also the most misquoted. (most often mistakenly referred to as The Road Less Traveled). (according to The Paris Review)