The Woods
I walk through the forests, the crackling twig,
Dark and scary, I fall over a log,
Dense woods, I see nothing else but blurred fog,
Hungry, off the branch I pick out a fig,
Tasty, and filled me up, it was quite big.
Further off, I hear the bark of a dog,
Even closer away, I see a hog.
Over rivers, I'll have to craft a rig,
Even while the skies and the rain does drip,
A little help at this time would be nice,
Cannot craft the mast well, neither its grip,
I tried again and again; once, twice, thrice,
Raft is now ready for the river trip.
In the white, cloudy skies; down falls the rice.