Poets are the visionaries and the scribes who keep the records of their era. Many things have happened in my sixty years, but I think the one that touched me most deeply was Hurricane Katrina. New Orleans was a point of fascination for me. To see it turned to rubble and mud was a deep shock. This event brought to light the fact that no matter what era or age, catastrophes can and do happen. We are taught that we are but players on a stage, and Mother Nature writes those plays without regard to times or Tides.

Big Easy

Magnolia-honey air, heavy with heat.
Kudzu vines twining, knitting the city.
Spanish moss masks the old hoyden,
and she manages to think herself pretty.

Shutters and fans lazily stirring keep
the suffocating heat of afternoon at bay.
Lanais and balconies, sanctuary given,
folks resting, until cool enough to play.

Languid, lazy persistence of mosquitoes,
hands too enervated to swat them away.
Down Bourbon a honky tonk is whispering,
birds and butterflies hide from heat of day.

Bawdy houses and mansions, quaint cafes.
Charm oozes from the Big Easy