Spanish Moss
Though I’ve never been amidst its glory
I’ve seen the photos and read the stories
A canopy of emerald yarns
With long dangling hair with arms
A paradise for mocking birds alike
A dreamy place for a nature hike
Spun from beards in cypress and oak
Amongst the warmth and sunbeams poetic words spoke
It got its name from a lush hanging plant
With many useful sources and a home for the ants
It’s been around in past history
Blow from winds of haunting mystery
If I were there I find a shady place
And swing under its shelter and endure its embrace
As the sun set it’s self to gently sleep
The sounds of the Spanish moss billow and weep
(Written by Laura L. McKenzie 2009)
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2009
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