Apologies to Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Drizzly Morning

Whose woods these are-- they're mine, you know.
My house is over that way, yo;
But you can watch me stopping here
To sniff the slowly melting snow.

The neighbor man must think it queer
To pause and check the atmosphere
(But it's a task I won't forsake)
The dampest morning of the year.

I give my floppy ears a shake,
My doggy senses all awake.
The forest creatures still asleep
The fog: a blanket, quite opaque.

I think I heard a nuthatch cheep.
But to my mission I must keep,
Miles to explore before I sleep,
Miles to explore before I sleep.