Dark Farm Forest

From Poetic Asides prompt to write a welcoming poem

The picture shows bracken hiding
most of the broken gravel driveway.
But, fifty years ago, the sound of rocks rubbing on the
tires of our Ford, welcomed me to my grandparents' farm.

It seemed then, to be
a long way to drive and even longer to run--
from the white-porched house to Randall Road
where we were forbidden to cross alone.

Strangely now, as the unkept unloved trees and grass
have turned into a dark forest,
the magic of the farm is stronger
as remnants of memory blaze
even as the shadows darken the welcoming past.