170 comes an old road

I see the old roads shadow,
deep ruts dug by wagons,
bordered by stone walls
collapsed by frost or deer or ghosts,
Passing through second growth woods
where,once, corn fields flourished,
families farmed.
overgrown by saplings, briars, weeds,
old roads now untravelled
lead deep into the brush,
into green, dark forests where
fey spirits play,
lost ones wander.
Why am I still entranced
like Lancelot
to wonder down these
darkening roads?

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
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1 Response to 170 comes an old road

  1. your writing reminds me of Seamus Heaney. really lovely. really in touch with nature. very ‘connected’. thanks for sharing.

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