Today the winter oaks are dark against the sky, but in a few weeks, as they turn spring green, the woods will take a softer look. Here is a poem about dark trees and a boy’s thoughts about an uncertain future.
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew–
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
—Into My Own by Robert Frost, A Boy’s Will, 1915
You can find the poem on Bartleby dot com. The poem may have been Frost’s reflection on his own future, but the thoughts and uncertainties of youth are universal.
Follow the link to WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Wish.