A steam hangs off the wet asphalt;
The fresh rain water
Seeps off the sticky ground
In low hazy mists. Beside the road
The trees hang down as if
Weighted by the humid air
And the reeds and undergrowth
Glare back a violent shade of arsenic green.
Above the earth wet electric lime
And vibrant cherry leaves
Hang over the slick black surface.

A forest
Choked with muddy and twisted
Vines and shrubs,
Dense and gritty mud,
Ferns from a prehistoric era otherwise forgotten,
And yammering birds that shriek
Upwards in the tangled branches
Stares back at a black cat,
Who sits and cleans herself nobly,
Occasionally munching on grass.

Her head bobs up and down
As she chomps the sour stalks
In her mouth, staring once in a while
At the ominous maw of the forest floor.
The grass is soaked against her paws,
And soon she trots
Into a quiet house at some distance.

Outside dusk has arrived like
The terrible bringer of some evil destiny,
Walking quietly upon soft yet inevitable footsteps.
Meanwhile the insects crawl forth from the mud
And pour out into the mauve and fleshy night air
Buzzing and biting.