Southern Cloak





As old as trees from which they grow
Ashy green hangs, drapes as dross
Curious if you didn’t know
About drooping Spanish Moss

A parasitic toga
Trees face the ultimate loss
And enigmatic, so
Gauntly, still haunting Spanish Moss

To touch is not that lethal
To let through one’s fingers floss
Cause a rash this mute wreath will
Quite deceptive, Spanish Moss

Respect we have no shared space
Shoulder brush, flippant hair toss
Turn my back, my steps apace
Until next time, Spanish Moss

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