The Shifty Mother's Shiftless Son

 

Two roads diverged, the old wind 

in the old anger, the blood that warms,

the thoughts that hurt.

In a lonely field the rain

altogether elsewhere,

silently and very fast.

Long I stood and looked.

I doubted. 

Then took the other.

Close to the sun, 

ringed with the azure world. 

Time. 

(Thrice.)

Adder’s fork, 

and blind-worm’s sting.