Lonesome Memory

It requires I but close my eyes
To again see Spanish Moss
Draped over Mississippi Live Oak
And Bald Cyprus.

I again find the aroma

Of magnolia and lavender.
The southern sun bakes my shoulders
And I am once more along the banks
Of the Old Muddy
The Father of Waters.

My speech slows

Breath deepens
And my toes anchor
In that red rock road
One more time
For old time’s sake.

Were I to stay
I would smell the smoke
Feel the fury that remains
In its bloody soil.
Maybe that’s why the dirt is red.

Ghosts of Dixie linger

Telling truth mingled with lies
But intoxicating me
In the vastness of mystery.

It is best to drain away all the pain.

Taste the salt on my lips
Wondering how long it would take
To float to New Orleans
Clinging to that cypress log
That just floated by
In my lonesome memory
As silent as the years.