Grimm to None

Even if you live in forests
All alone (although you don’t),
Your dreams remain the deep woods,

Darkest and most frightening,
And this is not a good thing.
The real woods are pathetic,

Pretty trees, and it’s the storm,
The flood, the blizzard, the drought,
The desert, the barren cliff

With which the outdoors is more
Likely to confuse or kill
You, not with its pretty trees,

Not even in the Green Hell,
Where you’re far more in danger
From weather, snakes, and miners

Than from the vine-covered trunks.
But there’s Black Forest in you,
Plenty ways to get lost yet,

And if you went wandering
In there without returning,
Might as well confess you’re dead.