Where the mangroves are,
The life chain starts.
Their yellowed decomposing leaves
Add murkiness to the mud
All the silt and debris collect
At their mangled roots beneath
From the putrid flesh
Of worms that failed to fly
To the thickened dust on their barks
The venomous molt and hide.
But from the same milieu of decay
A billion plankters also thrive
From which fishes subsist
Which in turn become food
So that men may live.
Where the mangroves are,
Whose fearful silhouette at night
Kisses an enchanted full moon sometimes.
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1 comment:
I am so glad you started to share your work. I've just gone back to my blog - first time in ages as the internet connection was not working well - and found your comment, I appreciate it. I like your work and will return to read more. How lucky you are to have so many tongues to write with, almost like having a whole new spectrum of paints to work with. all the best - Frances
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