I want to go
where gators bellow
I want to smell
the muck
I want shade
of Spanish moss
that canopies
and I want the Sun
to reveal its breaks
and light in beams
on black water

Let the Will-o’-the-wisp
carry me in deeper
Let me lose mind
of where I came

I want to catwalk
over timbered trees
and maze my way
through ash opaque
And if all goes natural
let my footing slip
and I’ll walk way
to the nearest hammock
And there I’ll scrape
my boot soles clean
on a brownie stump
as I’ll want to see
insects escape it
as I’ll want to see
the life death fostered

I want to hear
the whooping cranes
And bullfrogs croak
And when it’s late
that’s if I’m brave
I’ll want to see
little eyes about
reflect the moonlight
I’ll want to hear
hoots and howls

And if I’m lucky
let me find
a cottonmouth
and have it gape
to prove its name
Take me to the swamp