Birch Wood

Birch Wood

Life is like a pathless wood,
A dark dank musty forest
Full of gloom at evening fall.
Every tree seems menacing
At this time of night.
It’s depressing how night makes you think
Things are jumping out at you,
That eyes glow in the dark
And sounds magnify in your eardrums.
This birch is like a pendulum,
Like time swinging back and forth
Until the ice bends it down to stay.
So time may never right itself,
Like a bent down birch tree
Under heavy ice,
Bent down into submission.
Maybe we’re all just bent over
Under the continuing weight of the world.
Don’t be easily swayed
You are stronger than the slight birch trees.