out in the swampland
misty mornings meet the day
sleepers start to stir

Light that's not quite a light but something in the night -Not an old dead stump, they say, that's caught fire from some stray flash, a lightning bolt, nor some little cloud of swamp gas ignited by a firefly sitting on it too long , but no. It has to be something much more exotic than that. Something mysterious.eerie. hauntingly melancholy... like purple orchid juice being squeezed out from bamboo reeds and vaporizing before it can be lapped up by Venus Fly Traps. That's all.