twirl
in a bog, frighten
a nearby spirit, see it
flee into peat and muck
among long-drowned roots
the dank remainder
of dark ages
holds itself apart
from where you stand
and dissipates
even as you
sneer at the mundane fools
who would prevent you
from mounting such
perimeter guard
when they try to stop you
you cannot speak of it
but with your flashing eyes
attempt to warn them
of the folly of trying
for the twirl
you can offer
is a signal service toward keeping
the worst parts of the bog
at bay
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Dark Matter 