Village child

[Todd]

Rumpled grey-sock days
scuffed-shoe, scabbed-knee days--this repetition for me sort of reminds me of the repetitious days of childhood
distances were longer then
closer to the ground.--these two lines are excellent. It's such a strong observation expressed powerfully

Dampstung colt legs buck
in awkward grace
to crazy rhythms
of bumping satchel books,--satchel books is a great addition for calling out the time of life this is. It also sets the relative age difference between the speaker and the remembered time of youth
kick at invisible traces--while I can admire the t sonics here, I would personally like to see something more concrete than traces
along tree- tunnelled lanes
prevaricating--it's a good word but it feels out of place with the childhood perspective to me.
solitary.

Trees and fields grow thin
draped in sad cobweb rags--love this. Absolutely love it
of rising river mists
muddy leaves lie in heavy drifts
still, dull--I would cosider pulling up "as the blood" just an option
as the blood -matted fur
and empty green eyes
of the tortoiseshell cat
in the gutter
dead.[b]--the ending is really good too.

There are enough touch points here for readers to tie their own childhood too. I hope the comments will be helpful to you as you consider the direction you might take this.

Very much enjoyed this.

Best,

Todd