The slough way

 The slough way

John Clare Stokes

There is a place near the slow flowing upper Suwannee

Where the sand is white beneath palmetto thick, where

the track of the turkey and deer converge

beneath the shade of the grand, cool mystic 

In the impassible murky beyond the winding creek

The sound of rustling coming in the boggy way

It’s the piney wood rooters passing through

We scurry for a way of safety from the tusky

Up the lazy old oak into the abandoned stand

A pileated is startled to see the form of man

In time the beaded red eyed troop move on

All quiet resumes to consume the slough below

We saunter down not in a particular hurry

Wary lest the moccasin stirred from slumber

Strikes to count us among his number

Sure to follow close the well tracked trail out

Leaving this slough of the denizens of Suwannee

Past the sleeping foot washed ones of Prospect

There was no place upon earth we’d rather be

Than lost in the canopy of the primitive tree.