| TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, | |
| And sorry I could not travel both | |
| And be one traveler, long I stood | |
| And looked down one as far as I could | |
| To where it bent in the undergrowth; -Robert Frost |
The sunrises to another sweet, crisp taste of summer morning here in Puyallup, WA. It's a still neighborhood, where the only ruckus is during the afternoon when the kids are out of school and play hide and seek outside. From my window, the luscious evergreens mock me with their serene presence...how long will this stillness last?
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