One day,
the pessimists say,
this place
This community,
of sawgrass shacks,
will get swept away
With further 'upscaling'
development
Just as we've ebbed away
at the Everglades
To those, may I say,
"So be it;
come what may."
Though truly I'd sacrifice
anything for the land
to stay
Sooner or later,
(the latter, I pray for)
inevitability will reign
Hearts will go
as they came
But for now,
I am here;
I write
Photographing,
over and over, the
same birds in flight
The same trees,
in 365 golden views,
from windows, open like these.
Someday, this place,
this precious history
shall remain with me
With us,
a priceless memory
that cannot be replicated.
II
Perhaps we will make
a grand spectacle;
hold hands and lie
across the sands of time
Kissing the limestone
at the crime scene,
leaving pieces of our souls
Until they sweep us away
as dusty stories,
as smoke
in glory.
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