the wordlinks poetry project

darkling wood v

Every father shows his son his boyhood haunts ungrown and still, and every son will run and hide among the bushes same and full, and knowing not that years have passed — or owning to the years. And when that barefoot boy has grown, and raised a boy, and seen his lot, and lays him down abed to die, he’ll pull from thought a view he drunk the day his father died, and find nor leaf nor twig misplaced. *