In search of the folks stories which are told around each hue of the bays, marsh, hammocks, and mangrove streams.
They carry me onwards like an obsessive compulsive mad man to deliver me into the next environments.
The stage is set as the winds blows across the Cypress, Orchids, Ferns, and Sawgrass to display a brave world struggling to exist.
I’m lost like a old friend that hangs from above as the sun breaks the dusk, and the winds push me forward deeper.
The light sound of the birds carry me into her arms. The slight sound of whispers play on my mind, and I’m born again.
Into this safe fragile harbor of life, bays, side stream I enter her domain in pure delight.
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