When I was a child, we lived a mile from the bayouMy parents hard working the dry August groundThe kids 'cross the road said, "we're going to the bayouWhere there's water that moves without making a sound"There's a spirit covers a bayou, a surface, quiet and calmSlow, dark, vertigo water, swallow me, feed me, float me to a landThe mansion arose above the brown of the prairieWhite, wooden, and silent 'tween the bayou and meA hot dusty wind moves through motionless porchesAn empty swing creaks at the touch of the breezeSlow, dark, vertigo water, swallow me, feed me, float me to a landThe rowboat afloat like a log in the noonlightTurtles were breathing, a snake jerked and swamAlone on the banks following coon tracksTo the edge of a sandbar and the shell of a clam