Wind and Bear

Wind and Bear

The woods are tricky —
a puckish maze
of mesmerizing beauty
punctuated by thickets of fear,

where pines turn wind
into words known only
to their roots,

and a choir of leaves
exhale names of those
who stepped one step too far,

disguising under dirt and moss
the point where the trail fades as fast
as breadcrumbs tossed,

the backwoods kin of maples
that cradled me in tire swings
and two-by-four tree forts

now a shapeshifting foe
more shadowy than the leafy woodlands
walked by Kilmer and Frost. 

Which path should I take?
Which leads where I seek?
Will the crunching leaves wake
the hungry bear?

The woods do not care.