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Cypress Evening

Cypress ‘knee's’ lap in the light as dusk wades in. Evening parachutes down, it plants shallow pother around ankle-deep trunks. Anhinga necks stir shadows under a low moon. This is the gurgling gills of a melting evening. Florida ends at every lakeshore where night-fevers begin. A heated gloom that thickens where bugs quicken. We are locked into the chaffing songs of crickets, the drilling buzz of mosquitoes, as cypress roots soak in the dark dank air.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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