Soon I will be on the sea breeze overlooking water stations.
Becoming an ibis struggling to pay rent in a habitat that is dwindling with every transplanted palm and Publix parking lot.
Standing out, I will give myself to the salt marsh.
Where oppression the color of mauve and smelling like sulfur weighs down my back... a nice stretch.
Feeling fine for a long time.
Telling the sunset my days adventure and watching the lightening flash my walls
as I drift away into a wall of Spanish moss where live oaks cradle my conscious.
Opaque waters reflect my smile,
and low ceilings reflect tropical architecture not built to impress,
but rather as a haven from unforgivable rains and hurricanes that will forever batter the foot high peninsula that manages to keep itself afloat.
Never sinking, but always caving in,
creating crystal springs and good depressions that tempt the curious.
Palmettos, the tree of life, my best friend.
Make friends with the landscape she said,
she said it under burning sun.
The best advice I have ever taken.
Trading the deciduous for something warmer.
Trading the four seasons for wet and dry.
introduce yourself with open arms to the Florida/ Georgia line.
Cross the river into that karst landscape whose fragility matches yours.
Corpus Christi, TX