Trees in southern Georgia
Spanish moss dripping sensuously
Like liquid off the limbs
Clinging like dainty lace
To the ancient boughs and leaves
And dipped elegantly like a woman
Feeling for a firm place
To set an expensively shod foot
Onto the murky ground below.
One tree in particular
With most interesting curves, swells
In its many wondrous branches
And its trunk bent just so
Reminding of a woman's neck
Green tendrils of unruly hair
Wisping down and around
Draping the secret places
And keeping them remote.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem