Spanish Moss

A poem in ode to the swaying angels of Tallahassee.

Today I am sharing a poem I wrote about a great Love of mine: Spanish Moss. I fell head over heels for it when I was in Tallahassee, Florida on tour this year.

My friend Phil just sent me a video message from St Augustine, Florida where he is staying with his family and I saw some Spanish Moss in the background behind him. It reminded me of this poem I wrote.

I thought I would share it with you today. My hope is that it slows you down to this unique foliage should you ever encounter it.

Spanish Moss

Some sacred green 
Dangling from the tree above me
It moves me to the earth
In awe and romance 

I gaze at the canopy of branches
Dripping with soft tendrils of Spanish Moss
They beckon me with ceremony like tinsel on a Christmas tree
Swaying with the soft evening breeze

I let them dance on my face
Tickling my skin
Catching slivers of light 
Subtle and feminine 

They skim the surface of all things
Like a shy lover
I am made quiet by their dance
A swell of crickets and cicadas pulse out of the silence with bright reactions

They twirl and swing down the streets of Tallahassee
Pouring scents of Magnolia and Daphne Odora 
Cool and rampant
Bundling together like tangled twine
They sing from the trees 
A melody from time that still haunts 

If the Spanish Moss could talk of all that happened here in the South
What would it say?

Could it gather all the men and women
who hung from trees like these?
Could it ease the sting of death 
and grace their wounds with stillness?

They are silent
They don’t speak of those days
Yet the memory is in their seed
Mute swaying witnesses
Rugged floss in the teeth of our bloody histories

Hanging in disarray
Knotted and clinging
Tiny dancers
Scattered in coarse outlines across the Floridian night