Bayou

Bayou

Out in the midst of the Bayou
where the Spanish moss still clings.
Cypress roots grow crooked and cruel,
and a lonely Mockingbird sings.

The Cottonmouth eyes' a silent pool,
then slithers over an old dead log.
The Gator surveys all that he rules,
with his friend, the old Bull frog.

The sun shines through a green canopy
in an emerald soft, morning light.
Silent ponds gleam in radiant sunbeams,
eye candy, for everyone's sight.

Green vines hang from the Cyprus trees,
there's no roads nor even a sign.
A pungence adrift in the scented breeze;
nature's gift to all of beauty divine.

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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