Swamp
I’m out in the skiff, catching mullets for me Mam and Pap, when that boat like a raft sneaks onto me, but I’m not seeing it because just then the sun comes up, making all that water gold, and on all the islands, those palms and live oaks, they shine like green fire. It’s behind the islands, that boat. And I’m not hearing its Evinrude. Sister egret flaps over, looking in me eye, and pelicans glide in a line, wingtips just riffling that golden water, and there’s brother dolphin’s fin knifing, after those mullets, too, making them jump, so they leave...
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