In the Marshes

I.

Gold, money, reconaissance. Filled to the brim, beneath statues in the pond. And Below, the rusty door to a new world shatters at the last touch. Below the waters It is hard to see. And the dirt swirls in clouds
Obscuring the only light from above.

II.

Half the time, on the dark side, green money collects in the curling bark. None can See where it comes from, or when it vanishes, but it is there. Farmers cutting tall Grass don't notice it. Sailors fight the wind that tears it from the grey.

III.

Slippery all the way down. The bucket at the bottom holds two keys. One blends the Farmer's door into the back of the tree. The other a mystery. Whom shall find the Only tree with no green? The safest route of all.