Flame red sunset burns desire
cypress deep in Southern water,
older than history comes the night,
older still, the Bayou's Daughter.
Sleek-winged spirit, paint the edges,
mangrove music sweep the sky,
Palmetto dreams dance round the edges,
but never question why.
Wildbirds call as night becomes her,
nightbreeze sighs with whispers past,
no one's coaxed her secrets from her,
though many, still, have dared to ask.
And sultry silent waters ease
her down upon the Southern shore,
Sweetest spirit, can't you hear it?
The Bayou calls once more...