I rose as a green fern on a tree
After the passing of the night storm and maximized the time of being present by being quiet
I was as quiet as death, so death
Couldn't hear me. And I drank
The air with a passion so
Crude as if to harness
The lungs to compromise. I rose
Above the rest, for the better part
Of the morning. Deep in the swamp
Hanging like a wrist waving goodbye
In the golden gleaming swamp
Waving goodbye so relentlessly;
Not afraid of when's next, or what.