Good Hours…
By Robert Frost

I had for my winter evening walk,
No one at all with whom to talk
But I saw the cottages in a row.

Up to their shining lights on snow.
And then I saw the folk within:
And heard the sound of violin:
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.

I had no company outward bound.
I went till there were no cottages found.
I turned and repented, but coming back.
I saw no window that was black.

Over the snow my creaking feet
Disturbed the slumbering village street
Like profanation, by your leave.
At ten o'clock of winters eve.

***********************************

My try.

I went online, and what prevail?
Was no one with, which to email.
I looked, and looked, and then I found.

Some quite good looking, and profound!
I drew them up and drew them down,
and drew their faces all around.

The drawings are of Jim S., also known as the 29thcandidate, Chris Bickel, and myself. The men are from Epinions.com where I met them a few years ago. What can I say, I was inspired.