in the woods

lost
in the woods
you look
up at the low
lying
winter sun
with its
meager heat
and dim
bulb.
which way
is north, you
have no
clue.
each tree looks
the same,
each creek
you cross
you've stepped
over or
through again
and again.
you can only
go straight,
as straight as
your boots
will allow.
one step in
front of the other.
it's how
you always get
out of the woods.