Yes, there is wind. And waves. For now, the ghosts of trees and lines of reeds remain. The water, though, rises. It warms. It rolls in like it always has. It eats away, washes out, deposits sand somewhere else, somewhere pelicans won’t be able to use it. The water leaves whole islands places where they will not protect our shore. The water carries its salt into new grass and tree roots until whole maps loosen, coastlines untie, until wind and waves curve over the horizon in every direction, and only the shadows of clouds break the water’s surface.
Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. His latest collection is No Brother, This Storm (Mercer University Press, fall 2018). He served as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017-2019.