Bayou Life

The brown-green moss atop a pool of muddy water
Stagnantly trickles through a mixture of pines and cypress.

Amidst the brown water, eyes peer at the birds on the banks
And the eyes swiftly propel themselves about the mocha streams.

The tall, white birds leap headfirst into the water-
And return from the splash with a mouthful of fish.

From the trees, a doe trots to the bank,
Startling the bird; and then reaching down to sip the bayou.

The hums of insects attracts a herd of solitary lizards
That sneak upon the branches of the gently shaking trees.

And, as the sun sets, the entire swamp wakes-
From its slow shuffle to its wild game of survival.

Our cabin sits on the water – peering
At an environment it can never escape or belong to.

We enjoy its view-
For the sliver of time we call it our own.

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