Dark and eerie even in day,
Pads of emerald and lily,
Light plays alizarin pink
Pooling moodily.


Soundless a rowboat,
Docks on a bog, where
Sun rays land on a
Sap green frog.


He croaks his song,
In that one-rayed spot,
“Here I am”
Gives it all he’s got.


Ignored by the man,
In the old wood canoe,
He sings on,
The boater moves.


Through black green reflections
And quiet cypress roots,
Away from the song,
He is mute.