hattie

there she stood, a dust,

gardenia in her hair

ash blown in the wind trailing

father wading in the water

away from grit n field

the glints of sun

in the sweat all running

in stands and flowers in her hair

slowly die into perfume

lost to the swamp and air

so thick the birds drink

it in and sink onto

thick verdant bushes

still with the gardenias and belly as full

as petal white clouds just before the rain