robert frost was a poet known for his depictions of rural life.
his personal life seemed turbulent, marked by stark losses and fate’s swift turns.
but his poetry
is unmelodramatic. never depressing, and quite ordinary. rather un-poetlike.
as a child, he seemed to me neither man nor god. he was a faceless person whose words were fresh winds, faint or quick, in the dank chambers of a heart. his lines were simple ideas for eternity.
in three words i can sum up everything i’ve learned about life: it goes on.