Atachafalaya at Dawn

The highway drone at dawn
Drowns the rancor of leaves.
Sugar cane stalks the road bed
Even as the highway gives its orders
And tells the swampland what to do

The pipeline ties the swamp
Down to the earth
So it won't fly up
To become the moon.

What I learned from her
Fern fronds and
Foam coffee cups
Hide the deep truth
Of the bayou:
The buried foundations of great willows
Hide the deep truth of the bayou:
Beneath the layers of mud
Lies the  fire at the center of the earth
Which turns cities to dust
And human woes melt away
Like boiling cane syrup fired
By the flaming tanks of night.