A poem by Penel Alden 

There were glistening poolsWhich welled up from the earth’s rocky skin,Suspended cold pushed currentsInto nearby gnarled mangrove roots,The sun warm through thick sweet air,Heavy with heaven’s descending pollen. The palms denser than a racoon’s fur,Interspersed with fanning flora,Frawns like soft blades,No, there is not even dappled light hereAway from the crystal springs.My body is a scarred flower.Careless feet marred by stonesAnd the decomposing trees.My naked limbs spotted from the painfulTorturous kisses of mosquitoes.Hey, my cousin Jessie says there’s a gator,Lives in the next murky opening.Do we dare chance an unwelcome encounter?Do we dare intrude so far from the springsAnd neglected dirt roads?We did dare.And many after us besides,Until the long decadesForced open the fanning flora.Frawns like soft bladesPressing the swamp into firm foundation.Asphalt is a pain, far foreignTo love than the bendingTwigs of the jungle.And my toes no longer knowWhere to find the dark placesWithout even dappled sun.Even the orange groves,Once the only encroachmentAre rare.And the sun is unbearable,Pushing down from the uncovered skyAnd reflected up.From the everywhere concreteOnly Jungle Road off SR 510 in WabassoShows me the longing palms,The twisted mangrove rootsFrom a two-lane passage,Cut straightThrough the bending trees. Featured image (modified) CC0