Poem in your pocket

The New Year's resolution I kept was to read more poetry.

Poems are fascinating to discover, easy to carry with you, and enjoyable to return to. The spareness of the form allows you to experience the heart of an idea in a powerful way that's completely different from a story or an essay. And it demands strength. Absent the luxury of hiding, it must bravely stand alone on the page defining itself from the very first word.

Today is Poem in Your Pocket day.  We literally get to carry a poem with us all day long.  The poem I chose to place alongside the magic rock I've been carrying around, is part of a Robert Frost poem titled "A Lone Striker." It reminds me of my favorite hike, and will be a fine companion today as I shop for new hiking shoes.

He knew another place, a wood,
And in it, tall as trees, were cliffs;
And if he stood on one of these,
'Twould be among the tops of trees,
Their upper branches round him wreathing,
Their breathing mingled with his breathing.
If - if he stood! Enough of ifs!
He knew a path that wanted walking;
He knew a spring that wanted drinking;
A thought that wanted further thinking;
A love that wanted re-renewing.
Nor was this just a way of talking
To save him the expense of doing.
With him it boded action, deed.

The factory was very fine;
He wished it all the modern speed.
Yet, after all, 'twas not divine,
That is to say, 'twas not a church.
He never would assume that he'd
Be any institution's need.
But he said then and still would say
If there should ever come a day
When industry seemed like to die
Because he left it in the lurch,
Or even merely seemed to pine
For want of his approval, why
Come get him - they knew where to search.