It gets dark over the MR GO.
We’re waiting for the light to fade down even more.
Not the magic hour,
but proper dark.
Frank comes down with Maw Maw.
He steps onto the deadwood platform
and tells a story about a water moccasin.
He adjusts the pic in his
magnificent
afro.
“That boy walked on water,” he says.
The frogs begin to sing.
Fish jump. A crane…
The cypress ghosts begin to speak.
And, now, I can smell the swamp.
I can smell the oil.
