Taking a Breather

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’s 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.

-Robert Frost

Sorry, Kid. No Biscuite.

One of the common denominators in both Iraq and Afghanistan is was the presence of a kid’s never-ending sweet tooth. Due to the language barrier, pretty much everything was either chocolate or a biscuite, even if it was a Jolly Rancher. This picture here displays some of the frustrations or curiosities of a young adult in the Helmand Province, Afghanistan when we have nothing to share, Lol. Good times.