Lost in t, I broke off a dark twig

    and lifted its y lips:

    maybe it he rain crying,

    a cracked bell, or a torn .

    Somet seemed

    deep and secret to me, h,

    a s muffled by umns,

    by t he leaves.

    akening from t the hazel-sprig

    sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance

    climbed up through my conscious mind

    as if suddenly ts I  behind

    cried out to me, t h my childhood---

    and I stopped, .