“Occam’s Razor (The Road Most Taken)”
Two roads forked in a golden forest.
And of course, physics proving
One cannot at once be in two locations,
I stared up and down in my confusion,
Admitting to the wood’s whispering chorus
That I had no idea where I was going.
“You’re lost,” said she, looking rather coy.
“I am not,” I say with a smirk.
“North is that way,
If you check the moss upon that birch.”
So I ventured left with much courage,
Satisfied in my quick thinking and primordial knowledge.
But she, stubborn as a knotted root
Decided on the other.
For in her mind, the grass was springy
And would not muddy up the boot.
“And besides,” said she,
“On my path the weather is fairer.”
I shall be telling this with some dismay,
For an ancient instinct failed that day.
Whereas she traversed steadfast in her persistence
And made it home to a glass of warm liqueur
I stumbled under the stormy skies of October
Down the path of most resistance.