Tag Archives: Holden Arboretum

The young lad bellies down, ink in hand. He writes of pregnancy, a father’s knotting mistakes, and trees bent to make way for man-made things. He writes of pulling on the pocket of a peaked lapel. And muddling wool with tobacco-stained fingertips. He writes of the pain in growing— still longing for a cold hardContinue reading “How Strange”