My mother always told me to stay out of Maple Woods. The things that you’ll discover there are certainly not good. My mother always told me this, and I understood: Trespassing there is dangerous.
Avoid the Maple Woods.
*******
First, save yourself from worrying
There are no bears out there,
The worst things aren’t wolf howls
Or the spiders skinned in hair.
The worst things aren’t monsters
With jagged claws that reave.
The worst things aren’t shadows
That rustle in the leaves.
The Maple Woods is not the place
For playing children’s games,
For any ball that’s lost there
Is a ball the forest claims.
If you are a climber,
Don’t go climbing in the trees
Hide-and-seek is out as well;
Can’t hide from trees that see.
*******
My mother always told me to stay out of Maple Woods, And now I’m telling this to you; so listen if you could? Everyone should know this, my words all understood: Trespassing here is dangerous.
Avoid the Maple Woods.
*******
If you are lost in Maple Woods,
It is best you try to leave,
For if you dare stop moving,
Roots will wrap around your feet
And as they wrap around you
They will plant you in the ground,
A sense of dread will fill you
As your skin grows hard and brown.
Your arms will stiffen; branch apart
You’ll reach into the sky.
It’s then the bark surrounds you,
‘Till you’re full of rings inside.
And leaves will grow out from you
At a speed you won’t believe,
The sticky sap will fill you
As you grow into a tree.
*******
My mother always told me to stay out of Maple Woods, For everywhere a maple stands, there once a person stood. And you will hear two sounds there, both certainly not good: You’d be best to not hear either.
Avoid the Maple Woods.
*******
The first one of these awful sounds
Is meant for you and I:
Consider it a warning
That those trees themselves imply.
The horrid sounds surround you,
The ringing screams of trees.
A foreboding awful sound
Carried here upon the breeze.
The second terrorizing sound:
The kind that frightens trees,
Is not the nesting of birds
Nor the buzzing buzz of bees.
It’s not the sound of chainsaws
Nor the whooshing of an ax.
No…
*******
It’s the sound of Maple Syrup Men:
Pounding in their taps.
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