The smatterbog was tepid

Its fluesence slowly heaving

With every gentle billowing 

Of the lively tensile surface 

a fragrant wind was passed

making stealthy breezes

titillate leaves of dew

That shed their droplet treasures 

into the mouths of steaming crocs

as iridescent dragonflies danced 

amongst the reeds 

along the bogsome banks.

‘Twas then the spotted hoary bats

Slipped in on silent sails

and honing in on radar paths

snuck by the steaming crocs

Then lifting corners of the bog

revealed gestating trunks

of elephantine proportions 

trumpeting societies of seedlings

Seeking fertile ground.

That cavalry of Gaian force

would soon take root and breathe

the days of perpetuity 

Creation bursting at the seams

Free from fossil furies 

Free, finally free at last.