Toward the end of the afternoon or in the evening, I tried to write a poem about it. Every day. No one can write a poem every day, though I know William Stafford tried, I had enough new sensation to keep me going for a while, and, I said to myself, I won't require that any of these poems be finished while I'm here. As I told Alan Scott when I left, I think of what I wrote here as sketches of poems. Give me six months to see if I can worry them into the real thing. The Everglades is a unique and unusual place, but it is also a wilderness, and as Thoreau reminded us a century and a half ago, we are in complete without wilderness. We cannot know ourselves or be ourselves without wild places.