Time in the Eerie Mangroves, Gators Near.

The prop boat is wonderful.
Reeds, branches, mangroves
No problem, Wanderer.
You just skim over.
Easy to get lost in here.
Better have your compass
Dear Dumb Ass.


Portable radio giving out
John Lee Hooker and B.B. King.
Bonnie Raitt. Reba.
Occasional weather bits.
Better listen intently.
Safety and life are in
The parameters of wind, waves, sun
And liquids, lots of them.


Gators all smile at your arrival.
Sunning, warming, lolling.
Snappers plunk off floating logs.
Egret will be a precious find.
White gaily shows against
thriving dark greens.
Muskrats, snappers, wild pigs.
Even cougar or coon so dainty.


Pocket novel on middle bench
Paperback, page folded at number
One eighty seven.
James Lee Burke, teller
Of the Bayou bad times
Bad or confused folk.
Religion occasionally popping in.
Crazy men with modified
Firearms.
Atmosphere, Baby, atmosphere.
Just like the stuff here
Next to you, under
All this green and
Smell of bream.


Tackle box, Po’ Boy sandwiches
Favourite rod, reel.
Six cans beer cooling, wet
On a line immersed.
Daddy’s old weapons.
Daddy’s old luck and skill.
Good day comin’
FOH SHOH.
Heat factor bearable.


Prop curves a gracious
Swooping white arc
Toward larger blue.
Mixing up the water bugs
And mosquitoes.
In their one or
Two day lifespan.