Stopping for Zucchinis: A Parody for Frost
Whose woods these are I do not care;
(His house is near our camp I know.)
He will not see me stopping here
to fill up his woods with zucchinis.
My little horse must think it smart
to plant without a farmhouse near.
Between the woods and half-thawed lake,
the brightest evening of the year.
He gives his harness-bells a shake.
He knows that there’s been no mistake.
The only other sound’s that sweep
of hard wind and no flake.
The forest is lovely, dark, and damp,
but I have seeds to plant
and miles to go before I sleep
and miles to go before I sleep.