Overheard on a salt marsh

[blueskythinker.livejournal.com]

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin, why do you stare at them?
Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.
Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars and water,
Better than voices of winds to sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them from the moon.

Give me your beads, I want them.

No.

I will howl in a deep lagoon
For your green glass beads,
I love them so.
Give them me. Give them me.

No.

-Harold Monroe