Now you know, when I were little, I used to hide in the rushes and <br />Play in that black, thick, bayou mud... <br />Good for boils and all kinds things. <br />Them cranes...them white ones, shore was pretty in the <br />Early, early maunin' light... <br />'Course now, they done gone way away from all <br />Them car noises and bad kids with them B-B guns. <br />Caught one once, and me and his mama shore had <br />Some words 'bout what I did to that kid. <br />Stays out of my way now. You bet. <br /> <br />I had this fishin' spot where them purple water lilies <br />Made me glad to have eyes to see. <br />They's too, too many today. <br />Done ruined my spot. <br />And you know as well as me, that too much pretty <br />Just ain't pretty no more. <br /> <br />See that old, knotted-up oak down in the yard? <br />I'm gonna outlive it... <br />I done told it so. <br />If not, bury me right under that root <br />Stickin' out the ground...that oak <br />Ain't never gonna get rid of me. <br /> <br />And chile, there's one thing you got to remember <br />All your life...God ain't in no church... <br />He's right here on this black bayou, <br />Fishin' and relaxin'. <br />And He done chose the best damn place <br />To get away from it all... <br />Not that He skips out...and no one knows <br />Where He is. <br /> <br />All you got to do if you need to talk to Him... <br />Is to go down a little ways, <br />Till you come to that pretty place <br />I told you 'bout. <br />There's nowhere else more peaceful <br />He could be. <br />And, Sweet Jesus, if anyone needs peace, <br />It's Him. <br /> <br /> <br />(First poem published. Virgin Islands.)<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/loosiana-got-something-nobody-else-got-humor/
