From the saw grass to the wire grass
was a journey of sixty years,
and it is here I will remain
as its ending nears.
It seems I spent a lifetime searching
for the star that steers;
we must remember to look up
before it disappears.
I've watched the storms of summer build
above the saw grass prairie;
I've seen the snow-white ibis ascend
from hammock aviary.
All of these remain with me,
the memories I carry,
As I've wandered Florida
from spring to estuary.
I remember the Everglades,
saw grass marshaled like bayonet blades,
and the towering cypress strands
rising from the wide wetlands.
Red blossoms of bromeliads,
frog chorus among the lily pads,
yes, I remember the Everglades —
I pray that memory never fades.
Once I knew the river of grass;
that was yesterday.
Other rivers called my name,
led me far away.
I found a dark stream flowing down
to Choctawhatchee Bay,
and as I watched I told myself,
here it is I’ll stay.
Beyond the Apalachicola,
in the wire grass,
my journey has come to its end,
I am home at last.
In these green Panhandle hills,
I watch the seasons pass;
each one slips away like sand
through an hour glass.
From the saw grass of the Everglades,
where sunrise glories in golden shades,
across the length and breadth of this state,
I traveled searching for my fate.
In the wire grass fields, I raise my eyes
to watch that sun set in my skies,
and remember the Everglades,
for that memory never fades.
a long-ish, not particularly original, and perhaps pretentious ‘Florida song’ -- music is partially written -- the ‘wire grass’ is a name for the north Florida (and south-east Alabama) region where I now reside -- probably not for the ‘best new Florida song’ competition at this year’s Will McLean folk festival, but maybe next year?
