Shark Valley

I’ll take no photograph
of what I can remember
low-lying sedge, bayhead island
dahoor holly
wax myrtle
coco plum
willow
and the gumbo limbo
whose name
sounds like a carousel
whose wood
was used to carve
merry-go-rounds
these trees usually found
below the Tropic of Cancer

a nest of baby
alligators
a dozen or more
surprisingly touching
not yet the toothy beasts
they’ll become
but watched over for years
by their mother hidden in amphibious shadow
where water meets air

past fifty myself
I’m still trying
to perfect the mix
of getting somewhere
and being there...