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Oops I apologize, no “Fay” this morning.  I had technical problems last night, then I had company and couldn’t resolve them until this morning, but now I have to leave for the day.  So I haven’t had the ability, and now I don’t have the time to write “Fay” or a poem for today (maybe I will later), or go through any emails.  Sorry about that.  I’ll see if I have a chance to write a “Fay” post sometime over the weekend instead of waiting until next Saturday, but I’m not sure if I will have the chance.  Anyway, I hope everyone has a great weekend.  And since I don’t have time to compose anything but this brief explanation, I’ll just ‘pen the verse’ of a brilliant New England poet:

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening”

by Rober 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.

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