With sincere apologies to the memory of Robert Frost

Two trails diverged in a Carolina wood
And I with but a second to choose
with two other cyclists bearing down quickly
thinking I was their trail riding food

I looked down one
saw blackberries bent up to here

Then took the other, thinking it clear
And pedaling the faster bike
dived to the front of the ride
Though as for leading
should have taken to the rear

And others that evening equally gave warning
’bout leaves reaching across my track
Oh, now I think ‘bout trail maintaining
Yet knowing how thorny blackberry leaves be
why was there no shirt on my back?

I shall be telling this with blood loss and loud moan
Somewhere Neosporin hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And my wife declared “no common sense”

Author: ChefJohn

Cook without tattoo, writer without a pen