The Thing in the Swamp

The forest called her name that day

Knowing she’d be missed by none

She allowed herself to be led astray

Following the sound of humanity undone

The foggy marsh was soon knee-deep

Groan of trees, her fate forebode

Limbs drag towards eternal sleep

From rotten logs black blood flowed

Gifted with the strength of bark

Walk until the roots take hold

Blessings from the matriarch

Wild weeds grow uncontrolled

Song of man gives one last wail

A white sheep watches with blood-shot eyes

Behold the beauty of the swallow-tail

Seeds of the mind are fertilized

Her body twists in the most natural ways

Of her crown not hair but vines

Arms stretch forever towards sun rays

From her fruit we drink fine wines

The transformation is now complete

Proud of her work, she gives a tender bleat