BUMMER-FREE ZONE

This part of the forest is thick
It hems in closely all around
Branches mingle in the sky
Roots interweave underground
The forest edge absorbs the wind
It does not penetrate here
Where the sun is strained through layered leaves
And the way is made unclear
By a forest wall, a wall of trees
Closing in on every side
And through these dense and tangled woods
There are no paths to meet my stride
So over, under, round and through
I make my way as best I can
Through woods that are ill-designed
For the passage of a man

Yet the woods are interrupted
Somewhere up ahead I know
By the edges of a field
Where trees give way to meadow
And through the meadow runs a brook
Broken free from the forest ranks
And like fabric along a zipper
The fields run along its banks
It runs for a mile or two
And along its course I'll roam
Before it intersects the road
That will lead me back to home
For though that way is less direct
Than returning the way I came
In terms of time it'll take
It is really about the same
For woods as dense as these
Are slower though shorter in span
Due to the fact they're ill-designed
For the passage of a man.