Visitation (Poem)

I find you climbing a tree,

Or perhaps an abandoned shrimp boat.

You often frequent both,

They being part of the lonely places,

The dark places shadowed by cypress and oak

Overhung with bearded moss.

You do not see me, of course.

I’m viewing you from years beyond,

To watch you play with serious mien

As you seek out favorite haunts.

Your friends are these swampy waterways,

The bayous and rivers that hid you away.

Even now from so great a distance,

I still hear your voice when I walk in the evening.