BON SECOUR

Down the road,
through the live oaks
and hanging moss,
the Bon Secour river
spreads out.
It’s’ ripples
and slow movements
call  to ducks
that cross the river
in straight lines.
I want to live on the river
and soak up its’ history.
A time when shrimp
was caught in nets
and lifted up by fishermen
in well-worn boats.
Fresh fish for the taking.
My granddaddy
was of French origin
He knew of the
sad river songs
of Louisiana.
All he needed
was a beret to
insure his heritage.
I am only a fraction French.
A small portion
given to me
by those who have
faded away in a flash of time.
But I can  look upon
the Bon Secour river
with my husband
and lively dog, Grayson.
 I can think about
a  river washed house
and fresh fish for the taking.

January 2025