Not a path, but an abyss
Cold wind, threatening clouds
It is inhospitable here

Diagonally in front of me
black leaves crunch open
Straight from the ground

Owls grow from them
they inflate themselves
thoughtful as they are

As if they could fly
they are close to the edge
to keep me from a false step

Behind me, I hear them
shrivel
When I look back quickly

the remnants pretend nothing
is going on, but if I do it calmy
they are completely gone