Before you get lost in the wood

Bad wolf your fur smells of the best moss.

I come close to you in the underbrush while the moon howls in the wild wind.

Here grows the flexible fern and there crops up your densest fear, right next to the parasol mushroom.

In its shadow you can sleep at night and dream backwards.

Bad wolf of burrows and canines, if in the deep of the silent darkness you cease to exist who will close your eyes and caress your motionless wool?

That's would be me.

Or the kiss of a tree.