The Bog

M'mame's Bog

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M'mame's Bog


"M'name's Bog, and I am Big


I lie here in Mother Earth's arms, my face to the sky, my bottom in the water (jest like takin' a bath) an' I LIKES IT! Even under a comfy boomph of snow, I LIKES IT!


'Cause ever' time I breathe,
the clouds shed their songs on me,
an' I soak 'em up
an' let 'em go
real slow
in my looong song,
in my brownwater song
down the beaverdam ladder to the river
an' then to the sea,
an' up to the clouds
an' then back to me.
mmm ... an' I LIKES IT!


When I was a little bog, in Mother Earth's cradle, jest a bunch o' sphagnum squirts, all talkin' like ten cafeteria lunchtimes. I begun' growin' fast.


The rain is good an' the sun is warm an' the snow is soft an' cool ... sometimes Mother Earth rocks me a little, jest so ... an' with the clean-washin' moon, an' the far stars, I grew so BIG an' GREEN ... an' I LIKES IT!


Y'know what? I'm still growin' ... I may seem real old to the Two-Foots, but to the hills I'm only 12,000 breathin's young


You can tell I'm still growin' ... ever' spring I put on my best green sphagnum moss suit, an' when you see:
the pink rhodora bloom
the secret little deep pitcher plants
the straight-up trees that whisper in the wind
....they're all my children; they're growin' free, and they're part o' me, AN' I LIKES IT! I'm never lonely. The Four-Foots like to amble an' browse on my soft face. They sleep safe in my secret places. The Many-Foots and the One-Foots and the No-Foots like to crawl and squirm an' wiggle an' squeak. I keep 'em safe an' soft.


The Winged Ones like to dip an' glide an' sing all over me, an' fill their nests with tiny twittering tumbly fluff-balls. The Finned Ones like to slide whispery in my good brown-water. The Tall Ones like to dig their long thin toes eager into my dark peat. The Teeny Ones are here, making food ... they're all my children, all in my brown-water song, AN' I LIKES IT, 'cause ...
M'name's Bog, an' I'm BIG. An' ever' time I breathe,
The clouds shed their songs on me,
an' I soak 'em up
an' let 'em go
real slow
in my looong song, in my brownwater song
down the beaverdam ladder to the river
an' then to the sea,
an' up to the clouds
an' then back to me.
AN' I LIKES IT!


But those Two-Foots. Lemme tell you about them strange critters!


They first showed up when I was jest a little sphagnum squirt m'self, right after Shaper Glacier melted away ... m' first big bath. At first they were timid an' careful (like steppin' into yer first day o' school, know what I mean?) They were nice to have around, y'know? They even had soft feet in those days (Put your own feet together, without shoes. See how soft Two-Foots' feet can be?)


But they started bein' careless. They made these machines. Noisy - smelly - rippin' - tearin' ... an' they built these hard black unfriendly roads around me, first like a necklace, an' then more like a noose. Unfriendly to all my children. Them Two-Foots dirtied the air, and made the water bitter. They wasted and littered and messed, and ... YECCH ... it gets hard to breathe!


Now even their flying big shiny metal birds roar over my face, shuddering into my looong song. How can I hum out my brown-water song when I'm chokin' and gaggin' on Two-Foots second-had-me-downs?


Them wild Two-Foots even started shootin' at me! Back - oh - only 60 breathin's ago, they used -- guess who -- for target practice! Big whiny artillery shells came screamin' and wobblin' into me from that hill over near the sun ... WHUMP! ... rippin' big hurtin' holes in my face. NOW I DON'T LIKE THAT!


But I healed up. Like the times Sizzle the Lightning-Snapper burned my skin right off in places, and made me itch, it seemed forever. But the sun n' the moon n' the far stars n' the rain healed me up, an' I LIKES IT!


Some Two-Foots still care. They don't rip and tear snarly, or throw that junk around that makes my brown-water so bitter. They don't like the stinky air any more'n I do.


They know their own soft feet upon the path. I LIKES THEM!
Are you one o' them Two-Foots?
Then come be with me. 'Cause m'name's BOG, I'm BIG, and ever' time I breathe,


The clouds shed their songs on me,
an' I soak 'em up
an' let 'em go
real slow
in my looong song,
in my brownwater song
down the beaverdam ladder to the river
an' then to the sea,
an' up to the clouds,
an' then back to me ... m-m-m-an'
I LIKES IT!


--Don Robbins


1993


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