For the past several years, I've set goals for the summertime to keep myself industrious and to remain purposeful. For the first four summers after I started teaching, I played soccer in a class at my local community college every day; and the last three summers, I've gone to Haiti with a local church, ending last summer by teaching summer school in Boston. This summer, I've decided not to commit to any serious activity. Instead, I plan to set small daily goals. These, I believe, will allow me the rest I hope for, while still keeping me purposeful. I don't know how the summer will unfold, but I do know that it will do so day by day. We'll see whether where my no-plans plan leads. I hope it leads somewhere pleasant. Thanks for reading.
This wasteland cold and dark runs free Its fearful creatures speak to me One fateful day one nudged my hand To set my eyes upon a tree He knew I could not understand For I was in his native land His signs became our common speech To lead me through the deadly sand Now stuck I saw him me beseech He could not lift me out to reach The firm foundation of a cave Outside the boundaries of this beach Withal, the beast became more brave To risk his own my life to save To carry me, its life it gave To carry me, its life it gave. This poem was inspired by Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." That poem, like this one, has four four-line stanzas of eight syllables per stanza. Its rhyme scheme is AABA BBCB CCDC DDDD.
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