There's touch to water of dark mouths: <br />The lips of dashing Deer. <br />Tucked in safe is all the South, <br />But out I am: no fear. <br /> <br />Ripples dance, collecting- <br />Everything that they can stash, <br />But no rasping from the River- <br />Coughing up their little trash. <br /> <br />Moons drift on the Mississippi. <br />Fire-flies take flight. <br />Beauty bathes in cotton fields <br />For She is brave tonight.<br /><br />Kyle Hamp<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moons-drift-on-the-mississippi/
