The Woods

The Woods

Tree, tree, tree, tree, tree, times one thousand,
and there’s your woods. All they can do is grow,

hold up a blowtorch, and they won’t even flinch.
Burn a tree or two, if you’re a bad person, and

the woods don’t even change their expression.
The woods don’t hear our voices. They’re busy

listening to the sun. When you’ve got stars in
your veins, you just take one decade at a time.

August 11, 2009: Quoted from: INSPIRATION: Tebe Interesno | FLYLYF

The Woods

Any section of forest requiring at least seven minutes
To walk through, or any clump of trees
dense enough to obscure roads.

An indefinite place, characterized by trees, leaves, dirt,
Patchy shade, solitude.
It begins where you say it does, and grows

Up around you as you walk. If there is path, you might
Follow it. I have lost an hour,
Two, beneath, inside, surrounded

By the woods. You can read the seasons in the leaves, the future
In the tangled clutch of branches. You will
Lose your way, at least once.