A View From The Rubble
I'm not sure I can quite express how much I LOVE this guy... I. Love. Him. Almost as much as I love Chipotle.
(Thank you for this contribution, Muni Kill Bomb! If only we could all dance with such wild abandonment... and speedos. One mustn't forget the speedos...)
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Over back where they speak of life as staying("You couldn't call it living, for it ain't"), There was an old, old house renewed with paint, And in it a piano loudly playing.
Out in the ploughed ground in the cold a digger, Among the unearthed potatoes standing still, Was counting winter dinners, one a hill, With half an ear to the piano's vigor.
All that piano and new paint back there, Was it some money suddenly come into? Or some extravagance young love had been to? Or old love on an impulse not to care -
Not to sink under being man and wife, But get some color and music out of life?
~ Robert Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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