011. I See the Bad Moon Rising


Full moon tonight.

What do we do now?



Now that Halloween is past and November is here, and with it has come the cold weather (as well as the destructive bonfires), I thought it might finally be appropriate to pull out a proper wintery poem. It's one of my favorites, "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening," by Robert Frost.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Remember Remember the Fifth of November,
Remus J. Lupin