I just got back from family vacation, and we had a blast! Fun places to go, amazing food, good times. I was even inspired to write a poem at one of the many places we went. Enjoy!
Considering we’re halfway through winter now, I thought it’d be great to share my best poem as of late. This piece of information would be helpful for you to know, dear reader: I use a beach chair to sit by the fire during wintertime. Enjoy!
Out my front doorway
Look there you’ll see
Epic waves of wind
Crashing into trees
Tides shift the shoreline again
My leaves, a sea, litter the ground
As sticks and twigs bob here and there
Some splash in sanguine, making sound
Glance off my back porch
Notice the small and tiny leaves
Incessantly they strike down and let up
To resemble black and white piano keys
Peace hits me exuberantly
As I savor season change
Yet I experience it sullenly
As leaves decay, looking gross
Clumping together by my shed
The temperatures, turning bitter
Hit endlessly my body and head
Sweat drenches me with blankets
And that damn space heater I fear
Might suddenly trip, burn or kill me
By the bathroom when I come near
Can I now recall
This winter from fall
Than this beach chair
As into our lives we stare
Sipping whiskey by the fire
You join me now free to admire
Growing up in southern Louisiana, I’ve always been fascinated with cypress knees, which are a part of the bald cypress tree. The Cajun French call them boscoyos, and the TV show Swamp People once pointed this out. If you’ve never seen boscoyos, here you go:
I took these pictures recently walking in a lake. Yes, you read correctly; I was walking in a lake that has been drained in the Lakewood subdivision of North Little Rock, AR where I live.
Even though many have wondered what boscoyos are for implicitly, botanist Francois André Michaux, in 1819, explicitly said, “No cause can be assigned for their existence.”
Nearly two hundred years later, no one, especially in the field of science, has yet discovered the specific purpose of boscoyos. Some think they help anchor the tree, others propose they slow floodwaters, some that they oxygenate the roots, and finally others that they catch drifting sediment. However, the research proves not one of these, although sediment has been found within the “underwater cave” portion of the cypress knee, as more easily seen below.
Hopefully this is enough background info for you to begin to understand why I wanted to write a poem about boscoyos as well as for you to better understand the term and poem below. Here’s two more puzzle pieces that continue to amaze me: Charles Darwin referred to the origin of boscoyos as an “abominable mystery.” Hurricane strength winds aren’t enough to knock down cypress trees! Ok, last alluring addition: boscoyos are classified in the redwood family. BOOM!
I’ve always enjoyed watching storms roll in. My love for this pastime grew in college, as I had a particular roommate we lovingly referred to as Dirty Steve or Steve Dave that enjoyed sitting together on our porch to smell, hear, sense, and fully take in incoming storms.
Since I currently don’t have an adequate porch on the side of the house that storms blow in on, I recently moved my rocking chair to the front area of our house, which has the perfect windows to observe outside movements. It was then, encountering the storm come in, that I had the idea to write a poem that captures, only in part to be sure, my experiences with thunderstorms.
Below, you will find my poem “Thunderstorm Winking,” but first, acclimate yourself with this GIF in order access deep emotions associated with how you encounter storms moving into your life.