A Southern Afternoon
The sun lazily melted through the muggy air,
Down to the swampy marsh.
On a moss-covered bank, I sat - swatting away mosquitoes.
The air was suffocatingly sultry, and
My shirt clung wetly to my skin - I was waiting.
A gator slithered through the muddy water,
Toads chirped their mating song,
A fish jumped,
Still I sat - waiting.
I wiped my face with my shirt.
The heat was alive:
Wet, Southern heat dominating the air,
Pervading my very essence.
Penetrating my body,
Though I was hot - I waited on.
I stood to dive off a rock
Into the warm river,
But quickly changed my mind -
Gators and cottonmouths lurked in those waters.
I sat, pulled my shirt from my shorts, and unbuttoned the top buttons.
Though I was tired, I sat and waited.
I scooped a few pebbles from around my feet.
One by one, I tossed them into the water.
I tried to make them skip,
But all they would do is plunk
Into the swamp.
Spanish moss clung to the leaves of the trees
Hung from the limbs
Giant spider webs.
It was time.
In the sky:
Red and purple and orange mixing, blending,
Bleeding into the other.
A golden streak teased the darkening sky.
It was happening!
Colors exploding, blotting the falling sun:
Deep royal blue ravishing red;
Red overpowering orange;
Purple battling blue;
All dominating the sun.
Still the colors copulated - creating more.
The poor blazing sphere was beaten.
The water opened wider and swallowed the fiery star.
In awe, I sat, dazed by the sight.
Then all was dark - I stood and started home.
Kandace Blevin Fall ‘91