Where the hammock lady lies
Darkness in the oaken hammock dropping;
Soft silent shadows slip in slowly from the west.
Fiery sun dips her head and dies again,
Seeds drifting slowly through the air now come to rest.
Oak holds hard night’s bleak blackness overhead,
While gentle moon behind scudding clouds hides her face.
Steel magnolia casts her branches wide ,
Wishful widows quickly spin wondrous captive lace .
Bleached bones within the oyster midden held.
Shifting sounds of the closing night can oft deceive;
Forests binding spirit souls from the past,
Shapes drifting ‘twixt moss-laden trunks await their leave.
Crumbling stumps form circles within the glade,
Pine-boarded creaking cracker shack lies part in ruin.
Old owl calls warnings from Hackberry Bluff,
Red fox sniffs the night-time air; ‘Something is brewing’
Flickering wick of lantern clings to light.
The small room where the hammock lady free from strife
Lies not in sleep but in her land of dreams;
Time suspended where her spirit world comes to life.
Faithful lover drifts through the bolted door.
Ne’er alone in life and now at night she smiles again
Her world protected by swamp angel nets
She feels the kiss that sets the captured heart aflame.
She walks again within the citrus groves,
Sweet scented orange blossoms fill the morning air .
Death a world apart, life a world within ;
Hands reach out to clasp, each still knows the other’s care .
Dawn and Red Bird calls out loud ‘Day has come’
In an empty shack there’s a space for those who grieve .
Within the mound life seems so still, at rest,
Yet waiting for the lover who can still believe.
David Hopcroft March 2007