“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” ~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.
Looking together in the same direction.
Sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don't drift apart.
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