Son down upon Suwannee
We must return to this bend
The place of quiet where the
heart can mend
Drink in with deer and bear
The nocturnal stare
Just beyond reach of fires glow
Glide the Chipewan slow
Past moccasin on
Tupelo tentacle
medusa sirens resembling
Drawing us where sand scrapes
Of leviathan warn, watching coldly
assuming us worth rolling
In the tannic black mare
Yes, we must go there.
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