there was an old man who lived in the woods
who had not been seen for many a year

the village elders would warn young and old
that this man was evil and slept with bears

even the preacher would sermon to his credulous flock
darkness and mayhem surrounded this man
to even look at him send one in shock

there was a young man whose mind was his own
and wondered about this solitary being
so he decided to venture into the valleys and over the stones
decided to take in a little sightseeing
and visit this dark throne

he still was unsure so a knife went under his belt
he gathered some water and placed it in a backpack
he waited until morning and then started his quest
up to the mountain where he hoped for the best

he saw a small cottage up on a hill
smoke rising into the sky
he approached so very cautiously
and took in a deep sigh
he called out “anybody home?”

the door slowly opened
and to his surprise
out came an old man with a glimmer in his eyes

he voice was gentle as he said “who’s there?”
so the young man responded “are there any bears?”
“not recently, they come and go
but I have seen their footprints all over the snow”

“I am from the village down past the river”

“oh,” said the old man
“would you like to come in for a while
and warm up your toes?
I’ll leave the door open
I’ve almost finished making a stew”

so the young man entered
the old man sitting on a chair
his abode was humble
obviously not a man of wealth
but books and manuscripts filled up numerous shelves

“do you like to read?” the old man inquired

“I do read but the library is small
not as many books as yours they could fill up the hall”

“well, take any one you desire and keep it as yours”

“but I don’t know what to pick, I’ve really no class”

“well take this one by Whitman,
it’s called ‘Leaves of Grass’”

and he handed it to him and told him it’s time to go
for he could feel in his bones an approaching snow

and the young man smiled and thanked him with for showing
that the truth all depended on which way the wind was blowing