I strolled, awhile, down by that bog
Through thick, astringent, swirling fog....
Perchance, perhaps, in circumstance
I fancied that the reeds did dance,
Swayed in time to pulsing beat
Expanding in round ripples, neat,
To radiate across the pond
In league with moss of ferny frond.
Causing spider webs to sway
Through which the dewdrops came to play
In iridescent beams of light
Illuminating shards of night
Which cast a most unearthly glow
That only frogs in bogs, would know.....
And know they did from ancient time
Where bullfrogs ruled in slippery slime
When incandescence filled the glade
Whilst time stood still and mayflies played.

Dancing in the fantasy of Patty's Pond.
With love M.