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 trails fade 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 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.