#poetry : into the woods

Into the woods
migrant clouds throb over a pink horizon
swirling in the sky like a finger
through hot breath
on the window
the path wears blinkers of trees,
armies of pine on either side
oxygen floods into my lungs
so cold it burns
for a moment,
I stand,
a cockroach by a green giant’s foot
the only way is forward
-don’t look back-
thwack!
a branch shrugs off birds
the path is a river, and thoughts
the only oars left to paddle with
snow swallows the footsteps of those gone past
               -forward is the only way-
though we all know
how it ends.
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