A boy in the gloaming.
A man is a gadfly gathering,
always gathering.
A boy wanders the night paths
amidst the shadow of trees
and star-branches.
A man sits pondering
always pondering.
A boy subdues a forest
passing through its tunnels
and mud pits
skimming and plumbing
a creek's mysteries.
A man is left with nothing
always nothing.
This poem was originally drafted on 6/24/18 and presented here, nearly unedited.
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