Ocala Prophets
Ever slowly,
The boat crawls between
singing waters.
The sun,
Sinking below the endless
line of longleaf pine and mangrove,
Grasps at what little reflections
it can still reach.
The cat-tails dance,
So that their bodies
whistle in the storm-carrying wind.
The rain falls,
And my hat becomes a tin roof.
My visions
burn the sky,
So as to carve a path
where the rain will not fall.
The Great Blue Herons and
diving Cormorants
cast shadows,
Like the pitch-black sun of damnation
that falls on unsuspecting minnows.
I do not fear the King of the Ocala,
The great Alligator.
Both our eyes have fallen
on the same prophecies:
The ancient springs here
rise on blessed land,
And we are both
mere visitors.
Photos were taken at Ocala National Park in Florida, with a Sony Alpha5000. VSCO was used for the editing.