Two Roads Converged...

Two Fiats, Gerhard Richter

For Frost, the forest was a temporary idyll, an occasion for metaphysical reflection. Yes, those "two roads diverged in a yellow wood," but there's never a doubt that either will lead the speaker to a cozy inn or hearty tavern (recall Zonker's parody of "Stopping by the Woods": "My little horse must think it queer/to stop without a pool-hall near").

For Creeley, the forest is the place from which we never escape:

The Traveller

Into the forest again
whence all roads depend
this way and that
to lead him back.

Upon his shoulders
he places boulders,
upon his eye
the high wide sky.

(From For Love.)