Lowlands

LOWLANDS



Haunting misty sheen
Illuminates the whiskey colored depths
Eerie fog cloaked aura
Moon glow spells from ancient witches’ craft
Olive gray Spanish moss
Hangs from scrub oak appendages
Like loosely woven shawls
Serpents
Thick as young tree trunks
Slither in silence through the slimy gloom
Moaning bullfrogs bellow

Ghostly apparitions of dead native warriors
Slain by Desoto’s blood stained greed
Longing for their vengeance spirit
Restless still
Along the Chickasaw bluffs

Mighty swamp
Thriving living creature
Beauty beyond words
Dangerously vibrant
Her siren call
Echoes through the lowlands


© Bill Grimes Jr. 2006