In the deepest green of Earth
Are undisturbed moments
Spaces filled with lurking silence
Then like wandering notions
The sounds of its residents
Will burst through the facades
Intermittently, without warning
Then fritter away into shadows
And once again there is the quiet
Of the jungle in its stillness.
The burning eye of the high cerulean
Has not spied all its secrets
As canopy in pride and glory meets it
And below the jungle rules.
Night, a solid wall of blackness
Day, in random bars
Here, a violent scent
There, a flaming tincture
Everywhere is dampness
And pungent mulch perfume
Rising at each footstep.
Adventurers or fools would enter
Then the foliage surrounds them
For the jungle absorbs all
And all bar none.