THAT southern air
and voices in the moss
where damp shadow feeds soil
for the small things
on the muddy banks of bayou
— such girls bask in the humid sun drink
that softens the glare

Gently floating pirogues
gliding through brown-green
waters —
some fisherman smiles at taunt fishing lines
oh majestic tragic enchanted world — sings Canjun
although high-tech peppers the air and ground
her spirits remain above and below and evenly round

Sunrise greets
those wonderous
Great Egrets —
gliding on golden light
and sunsets bring
such mysterious
to vibrant hearts
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