Twin suns bleed orange through cypress knees
Gator eyes glow in the black water keys
His rifle rests on splintered porch planks
Night heron cries from the Spanish moss banks
Two suns set slow like yolks in bacon grease
The bayou holds its breath at dusk's release
He'll ride at dawn when the purple light flees
But tonight the porch grants a quiet peace
Coffee steam rises from a dented tin cup
He cleans his piece like a cook cleans the grill
Mosquitoes swarm but they don't dare sup
The night air thick with a gator's low trill
Two suns set slow like yolks in bacon grease
The bayou holds its breath at dusk's release
He'll ride at dawn when the purple light flees
But tonight the porch grants a quiet peace
Spanish moss drips on the splintered handrail
Gator slides silent through the tea-colored veil
Twin suns kiss the horizon's jagged edge
He checks his loads on the porch's wooden ledge
Two suns set slow like yolks in bacon grease
The bayou holds its breath at dusk's release
He'll ride at dawn when the purple light flees
But tonight the porch grants a quiet peace
Porch swing creaks as he shifts his weight
Twin suns dip low past the cypress gate
Crickets chorus their rasping night song
He tips his hat, knows he won't stay long
Two suns set slow like yolks in bacon grease
The bayou holds its breath at dusk's release
He'll ride at dawn when the purple light flees
But tonight the porch grants a quiet peace
