“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood /And sorry I could not travel both /And be one traveler, long I stood /And looked down one as far as I could /To where it bent in the undergrowth. /… ―Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken, 1916

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In a yellow wood, a pencil pusher, horning in to push pencils, comes to a fork in the road, where a Pulitzer poet is standing on the horns of a dilemma.

“And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back. /…

In the yellow wood, a couple porcupines park at the fork in the road, poking the pencil pusher into the Pulitzer poet, prodding him off the horns of the dilemma.

“Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same. /…

A punctilious park ranger pulls up and tickets the porcupines for parking on a fork in the road, raising quills in the yellow wood, while the pencil pusher finds inspiration in the Pulitzer poet’s point.

“I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

―Robert Frost

In a yellow wood, between a Pulitzer poet’s inspiring lines and porcupine spines, a fellow could, by pushing pencils to everyone who would, make a fork in the road a sign of the tines.

“What can a pencil do for all of us? Amazing things. It can write transcendent poetry, uplifting music, or life-changing equations; it can sketch the future, give life to untold beauty, and communicate the full-force of our love and aspirations.”

―Adam Braun