“The General Store”

Swift current ripples the surface

of tannic black waters

the Seminole's call the Ocklawaha River

a brew of swamp and wetland decay

snowy egrets strut the banks

with a wary eye always

on sunning gators movement

coots, black as tar, paddle and maneuver

as bass break the surface

gulping oxygen and flies

Spanish moss drizzles in lacy patterns

from live oaks swaying in humid air

large, fat mosquitoes hover and drone

in the pressing heat

as wigglers slither, ruling the palmettos

at the Hog Valley Store

the locals swagger in

leaving the sugar sand parking lot

in disarray crowded with

pick up trucks and , dirt bikes

outsiders ain’t welcome

in the good ole boys hangout

where greasy burgers and long necks

feel at home

the pool table smells like cheap booze

and occasional wacky weed

what the good ole boys call easy livin

is outside the local law

seedy ventures where Smith & Wesson

and shady clientele venture into

poaching and  distilling deep in the forest

swamp buggies and air boats roar

providing transportation for most

upon the store walls, trophies

the skin of “Old Joe”, six plus feet

of rattler  stretched out

fat as a small pig

belly up boys and spin a yarn or two

while you down a brew

at the hog valley general store

life takes on its own view