The Bitter Trails of Winter

My car skidded off the road.

I called for a tow-truck for my car to be towed.

The tow man said, "I'm busy, it will be a while."

So I thought, a short cut would only be a mile.

I started to the cabin.

I thought I knew my way.

I didn't know better nature's game to play.

The white snow glistened sparkly-colors in the sun.

I didn't know that treading the snow could have won.

I had to step high,

With each step of snow to my thigh.

It got darker and colder and I asked, "Why?"

To this tree I engrave this poem,

And here this tree my gravestone,

And here is where I die.