We scampered past the backyard oak, dripping morning mist
On me, my friend, and a rusted chicken coop.
Fluffy wagged his puppy-short tail, turned from the backdoor cats...
Snuffed along our trail.
Canefield dirt, hard with a late, night frost. Spiderwebs caught our
Hair...walking between rows of sweet stalks.
Goldenrods deepened with the sun.
Quail startled from cow pasture weeds. Glided yellow-breasted,
Settled again. Cattle chewed, watched us ghost into dark
Woods...trails of spiral black-jack vines, hurricane-twisted
Cypress trees.
Blackbirds cawed our passing. Owls swept to higher branches.
Autumn-gaunt spiders clung to wing-hung webs...hoped for a
Late-year mosquito hawk.
We jumped from tree-island to island...reached a bayou, sat on a willow bough
Over the water.
Garfish, finning silted rays, snapped at water bugs in
Rushes. White cranes nuzzled in shallows...flapped slow-motion to
Vanish at bayou's bend.
The swamp began darkening, shadows lengthening, in Autumn's way.
Light went it's own path... it's own reasons.
We memorized dark waters...star-deep, wing-rippled.
Kingfisher on an ancient cypress.
Said goodbye, silently. Retraced our path through the swamp...
Vine-hung, evening-livened swamp.
Shivered in the evening chill.
Remembered the hot, crab claw gumbo, stuffed bell peppers
On Mrs. Girior's stove.
The backyard oak stood black in dusk.
Scads of cats barricaded the supper door.
Morning glories hung on the shambled wash shed...
Cicadas hummed as the
Kitchen lights went on.
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/swamp-memories-of-adult-children/
