FROSTIANA

the spring of 1963, I was a high school sophomore in southern Georgia when my English teacher introduced our class to the poetry of Robert Frost. Mrs. Love recited several of Frost’s shorter poems from memory that day, and one in particular—the single stanza “Fire and Ice”—grabbed my usually wandering attention. At the time, I was learning to play the guitar and trying to write some primitive songs. Poetry wasn’t on my at the local Rexall drugstore.