Bayou

Early morning

loading up buckets in the carport

moths bang against the lightbulb above

I cling to the sleeve of his jacket

the tremor from the engine makes me shake

as we slip out onto the bayou

Staying at his elbow

the mist makes this place look

like a fairy land

Hiding all the monsters

freaks, trolls, and goblins

that every good swamp provides

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