I found myself in shade,
laid my head upon my boots
let the river draw me away
Magpies cackled and I grew
greener than green moss
colder than cold stone
the river ferried my message,
“I’m slowly going under”
It was all rather funny,
I chuckled around a roach,
wove a cloak of starwort.
Gloved in leeches, I waved
worrying the minnows -
sending up the mud
By the time I slowed
I was pretty far gone
sapped by the current,
muscles slow as roots
thoughts slow as roots
I eddy around myself
There is a babble,
gurgle.
