Find me in the willows
Long stemmed where
The snakes gather
In tall grasses of late
Summer in the south,
The shallows warm,
The Mud cool, miring.

Bring to me fey days
Of sweet scents and
Tastes of homespun
Passions and the call
Of cicada deep as night
Comes to meet weary
Flesh and eyes a flutter.

Oh my south my sweet
Texas soil and winds
That meet my upturned
Face the sun has kissed,
My south demure, languid
As fingers stroking soft
The heaven and the skies
That move me to words.

I sing the body,
The soul found not quite
In the autumn of life,
I write the joy
Of being still in stillness
For livings sake.