The Parish...

The Parish

I miss the summer storms in The Parish

How you could smell them coming

The violence of the thunder & lightning

And the smell of the hot wet roads

I miss winters at The Island

The haunting sound of a northwest front rolling in over the Corrales

Spending hours out in the type of cold that chills you to the bone

And I miss the warmth of that old drafty house

I miss current cruising in my pirogue

Living in the water

Living in my tent across the bayou

And I miss sitting on the bridge at night at The End of the World

I miss never wearing shoes

The feel of the soft black dirt under my bare feet

I miss hunting & fishing & swimming whenever I want

I miss working on the boats

Pulling crab traps

Picking shrimp

I miss walking everywhere because I didn’t have a car

I miss building tanks at the refinery

Repairing appliances with my Dad

I miss walking through The French Quarter when it was empty

The haunting sound of music that echoed through the streets

And watching the sunrise over the river on the roof top of some random building

And I miss sitting on the bridge at night at The End of the World

~ The Parish ~
Written By GGRae

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