Trapped # 2

This early morning I went out and made
my way along the fields and copses. Dew
was on the grass, its perfect blades like jade
and full of sparkle. On the branches, too,
the morning diamonds shone. The path was dry
and easy to pursue across the hill
where on a twig, against a cloudless sky
a robin sang as only robins will.
The sun rose and the path came to the trees
and slowly wound its lazy way inside.
The air was moist and slow with droning bees
and dancing butterflies that seemed to guide
me on and on, and then the trees grew dense -
the air grew dark and dusty, and the drone
a shade too threatening, a little tense
and, suddenly aware I was alone,
I tried to hasten back - but all I found
was one unsmiling screen of trees. I should
have stayed away: whoever strays is bound
to join the shadows moving through the wood.