FOREST WINDS

The September winds are kicking up,
and the poplars, all so grandy,
along the road are saying, “Turn!
Your way is not too dandy!”

Their silvery leaves are telling me,
as the sun falls in, and merry,
that the way I go is not that good,
and I’d best let someone carry—

Carry me to where the birches dance,
and the ferns, on a wind a-borning,
will swirl and twirl, as I listen well,
of their end-of-summer warning—

Warning of the way that I think’s right,
which is not, to be contrary;
for there are commandments to obey,
and they’re anything but airy!

There is a way which seemeth right unto a man,
but the end thereof are the ways of death.
Proverbs 14:12