“A Time to Talk” by Robert Frost
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
“A Time to Listen” A response to Robert Frost
When a friend calls for me on the phone
And speeds her pace up so she can talk,
I stand still and heed
Leaving the things I haven’t done,
And I shut my mouth and say, nothing.
No, not as there is a time to listen,
I move my pen on the blank sheet,
Tip down and four inches tall,
And sit: I put my ear up to hear the call
Just to be there and listen.