Spanish Moss

I watch her pulse

beat slow

on the white sands

of Biloxi

my fragile child

my brilliant one

her stoic gaze

her soft breath

shifting the tide

of raging seas

her grace

forever bound

to blood

by horizon

my fragile child

my kind one

I watch her

grip tight

the manes

of dark horses

as she holds the

shore close

to her hips

hiding pain

behind eyes of

apple green

finding the will

to fight atrocities

and knowing

neither fish nor

flesh can separate

the Spanish moss

from solid tree