Investigation down a foreign road,
One foot in the grit, the other firmly planted
Where cover is absent, and lack of grip
Exposes the bounty of indeterminate furrows
And attractive troughs wherein newborn streams
Struggle, somehow knowing their path through
Kinks in gargling infant valleys.
Ice is visible, if you look hard enough,
And so too are the berry-guarding pricks;
Nasty they seem, yet well-meaning at heart.
If the needle pierces, it’s not bad –
Maybe it merely craves the curious
Attention that its captive demands,
Languishing in crippling safety.
That moment of surprise! This fruit
Is juicier than what first meets the eye!
Nobody warned me of this danger, yet
Glad of it all the more I am;
Lessons not learned, this bush has seen,
Each man falling for its seductive lure, and
Sure, this slippery path will always be the favoured.