Bayou Meditations

The still water of the stygian night

And the moon being the guiding light

By the mires where the gators lurk

Cypress tress jutting out like earthen dirks

Kneeling by the crawdad's mounds

Enjoying the marshy ground

Biscuits with molasses none of that jam tart

Cajun brood but a knight errant at heart

Pale face stifling a smile

Wanting a 100 acres with another Winchester rifle

To reap the swampy bounty for a crockpot

Fond memories spitting out steak's buckshot

Processors always got a shaky hand

Cause where I hail from is Bourbon land

It heightens the joy or the tears

Can't get any of that with cheap beer

Melancholic mists the fingers of the divine

Swirling around ankles smooth and fine

Here it's paradise to sail, fish, or shoot

This little bit of heaven in the boot