Cypress Way

The small boat glided gently along the slough, heading down cypress way. Here, in this part of the swamp, somewhere along the Texas and Louisiana state line, there are few defined paths or clear waterways. Instead, each person is left to find their own way, and yes, people can, and do, become lost in the swamp.

The cypress trees stand tall, their knees just breaching the water’s surface, and beyond them blue skies harken to a world which might lay beyond the swamp—from within the swamp, however, that is not a certainty. All is quiet, and all is still, for even the wind can lose its way among the maze of trees.

Fall, however, has come to the cypresses, and a few trees deign to put on a small display of fall color, adding a splash of color to cypress way. Just a splash, but then again, that’s all that is needed.

Life in the swamp is calm and peaceful. There is little need to hurry, and life seemingly moves at a slower pace than everywhere else. The boat continued its journey, lazily, quietly, completely swallowed up by the swamp. Eventually, however, it reached the shore of Caddo Lake, and its adventure came to an end, at least for now. It would be back in the swamp again soon enough.

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