Water flows from the north
And seeps into beds of decay
A flat, soft space between hills
Where breezes keep flowers in sway

And insects flit pistil to pistil
To keep the plants in bloom
While dragonflies fly sorties
Of feasting insect doom

The plants produce their seeds
Algorithmic life compressed
That soak in brown mat dankness
And cling to the marshes breast

The sun distills new water
Through the seedling's tiny veins
Drawing up the waiting flower
With warming springtime rains

And water becomes the contest
Between the earth and sun
Channels build as water rises
Connecting two as one

©Mark S. Richards, Maynard, MA, August 2002