The Bald Cypress

 The Bald Cypress

By Robin Lee Shelby

Among the swamps of south Louisiana

Once stood virgin bald cypress trees

Sentinels of the swamp

Thousands of years old

Near two hundred feet high

Close to ten feet wide

Wood grown in wet climes

Building material for the time

Home to the frogs, salamanders and ducks

Catfish spawn in submerged hollow logs

Upon their limbs Spanish Moss grows

And eagles nest in the tree tops

French settlers to this land

Used this growth

For dugout pirogues, their homes and furniture

Later they were turned into railroad ties

For the railroads then came

With lumbermen

Establishing company towns

To harvest this resource

Then the day came

When the trees were all hewn

The towns became villages

With abandoned ruins

Young cypress trees remained

And grow to this day

I could take you there

This is where I was raised

The Bayou

The Bayou

By Robin Lee Shelby

It wends its way along

Like a meandering snake

Through high land and low

Along ridges and roadways

Home to the fish, the frog and the turtle

And in the lowlands the alligator

Along its banks grow much vegetation

Giant Cutgrass, the Palmetto and the Bald Cypress

With the phases of the moon

It flows one way

And then the other

In its slow meandering way

At times the water is clear

And others choked with hyacinth

Coontails edge the waterside

Along with giant lily pads

These waterways cut through the land

Creating a thousand islands

A sportsman’s paradise

Where fish and game abound