http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSY6IqNuEKo
A Late Walk
When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.
Robert Frost
Roger Vincent Jasaitis 
Hi Rog,
I just read that lovely poem by Robert Frost. When I clicked on the video to view it, a messaged appeared:This is not available in your country. I know Miami is a far piece from anywhere, but I think we’re still part of the USA!
I’ll give it another try.
XO
Ginger
Hi Roger, That is a wonderful poem. I was unable to view thew video as well. Same message as my mom got., XO
Kath
Lovely music and a familiar poem. I guess you had a lot of snow. Tina
Sent from my iPhone
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