The following poem was inspired by a couple of pages out of one of my favorite poetry anthologies, FEG (Ridiculous Poems for Intelligent Children) and from a conversation with my stepfather.
Have you ever had the chance to see
Three-hundred and sixty degrees of pine trees?
Can you describe it?
Alone in the forest
The boughs reaching all around
Above and below and
Right at you.
And in an instant
Those beautiful trees transform into something sinister
And you're expecting the appearance of the
Big
Bad
Wolf
You can't make an escape
Because you still have the sun's reflection off green needles in your eyes
And in that bleary miasma
You melt.
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