A Summer Night In Mississippi

By Angela L Burke

A summer night in Mississippi,

Spent in Coldwater Bottoms.

Down gravel roads and cotton rows,

And places long forgotten.

The fragrance of Magnolia blossoms,

Drifts sweetly through the air.

Willow trees dance eerily,

As hoot owls stop and stare.

Soft breezes through the cypress trees,

Bring whispers on thier wings,

As fire flies twinkle like the stars.

And crickets start to sing.

Cross river beds and copper heads,

The fog begins to creep,

Into the lonely graveyard,

They call, Coldwater Creek.

Old, cast iron gates creak, as they sway,

Into a field of crumbling stones.

Whose carvings have all weathered,

Left now to be unknown.

The ground is soft and hollow,

Step lightly or you'll fall,

Into a pit of dust and bones,

And creepy things that crawl.

The stillness of the night air

Is ripped into a shred,

As the bobcat makes his presence known ,

With a scream to wake the dead.

Underneath the midnight moon,

Shadows dance to unheard tunes.

Chills run frantic down your spine,

As darkness settles with the dew.

A heaviness lies on you.

You can barely catch your breath.

As the leaves around you flutter

And wrap you up in death.

A summer night in Mississippi,

Spent in Coldwater Bottoms.

Down gravel roads and cotton rows,

And places , long forgotten.