Reluctance.

Out through the fields and the woods
 And over the hills I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
 And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
 And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
 Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
 And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
 When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
 No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
 The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
  But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
 Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
  To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
  Of a love or a season?

Robert Frost

An interesting poem especially for those of us into the autumn of our lives!


Tailpiece.

Had got up at our usual time, the chores and we were ready well in time. A short errand and topped up the Chevy and had the tyre pressure checked. The Quarterdeck was systematically shut down. Jaya, the maid, will take up her job on our return.