In the deep, dank, dark expanse,
stinging scorpions and crawling ants,
empty-eyed skulls stare
into swampy phosphorescent gasses.

Creatures with slumped shoulders
and heads hung low,
mumble quietly,
covered in oozing blue-green algae.

The moon glow shadows
show us unwanted images,
movie projected on the ever present
wind blown, glowing mist rising.

A lonesome howl in the near distance,
like a warning siren as the tornado approaches,
bring heads up, and sets the scene in chaos,
anguish, and terror, palpable and tasting.

Alligators with golden eyes glide
through frothy waters,
waiting on the edges,
in the sawgrass, in ambush mode.

The rest of us simply disappear,
burrowing into the muddy ground,
to anticipate safer junctures,
and the light of the new sun.
(If it ever comes.)