Faux Frost: Dropping into the woods on a snowy evening
. by Terrance Boult
Though not a trail, I think I know
that its within the boundary though
so if patrol does see me here
These woods have snow where i may go.
My crusing wife must think it queer
to venture off with no trail near
The corduroy I will forsake
For the dark woods I do hold dear
She gives her head a litte shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are powdery steep and deep
but promise fun: pop pop and leap.
a thousand powder turns to reap
with miles to go before I sleep.