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Friday, October 14, 2011

Bayou, a poetic discription

The air smells old. Old and fresh. I look in the water and see fish leap out. They are silver and blue. The boat has scared them. through the sky, I see green herons and snowy egrets. they land in the trees, covered in Spanish moss. I sit in the boat, waiting to see the reptiles that are said to live here. I think I see one, but it is just a log. Not an alligator. The trees are covered in pink lichen, making them look surreal. Banana spiders spin their webs, their size terrifying.  look at the sky,  pure blue. Between the trees are power lines, eliminating the idea of seclusion. A heron flies down snatching a fish, the rest leaping for escape. I want to see an alligator, all there is are more logs.  It is hot, the boat provides no shade. I look and see another egret, this one younger, sitting in tree. Again am welcomed in this world of wild. Free of the restrictions of people, society. Soon I will leave this free place, forced back to reality, but I think I will stay a little longer.

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