swamp lantern

Blessed are the bogs, fecund and wet.

Beneath your waters lie worlds within worlds

Teeming with life,

microbial kingdoms bloom a hundred shades of green.

Budding up from the fertile mud,

You, guardian of the wetland

Each year I stand by the wayside,

searching for your light,

the first harold of spring.

Your scent ripe, acrid, and feral awaken my senses,

your large leaves soft and supple against bare skin,

I could wrap myself in your stench,

bathe myself in your muck,

shapeshift and return

a creature reborn out of this pregnant swamp.

A toad croaks near by

A newt stirs

The lone lantern

Intoxicating inflorescence