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,