The hard-packed gravel road in the woods
Winds and twists and meanders
And is lined on either side by sun-lit dusty branches
And thin twining trees with more leaves than trunk
Which turn into standing logs, tall and thin and dappled,
Branches high, dusky and shifting light,
Or a charred forest of once-was pointing out the sky
Or fields of soft baby pines in the sun,
Sometimes clearing to show
The sharp gentle curve of mountains
Rising green and falling blue,
Fuzzy edges of pine lining,
Slowly obscured again by one tree, then two
Then a small forest of thin trees
And dusty sunlit bushes
Lining a meandering, twisting, winding
Hard-packed gravel road in the woods