The beaches are more beautiful than we have ever seen;
The sand is more plentiful, and oh so very clean.
The least terns have nesting mounds of beach grass
The parent birds dive bomb all who dare to pass.
Most old oaks survived intact during the storm;
Sculptures were carved out of trees that were harmed.
There are eagles and egrets where oaks used to be,
A rooted sculpture garden for all passersby to see.
There are few buildings now allowed on the beach;
Most are moving beyond the next storm's reach.
The old south may be gone, but the new will arise;
What is yet to emerge is sure to surprise.
I have cast my eye longingly on a lot on the bay;
Across the highway is the beach where the little ones play.
But oh, I miss the marsh and the light on the lake;
Our memories there, I've been unable to forsake.
Our neighbors have moved; starting over we'd do
With friends close by that have always been true.
Our beloved New Orleans would be only minutes away,
With the Higgins Boat project and other places to play.
So many of "my" children would be in the next state,
When I got lonesome for them, I'd not have to wait.
In less than an hour, I could get a dose of The Spirit
Sharing with someone who wants to hear it.
Poor Richard would get a much-needed break
As I partied with my first husband's namesake.
I could visit grandchildren for an afternoon,
With promises to see them again really soon.
My nieces could call on us to babysit
Whenever their schedules were too tight a fit.
Grown friends are fine, but what I live for
Is the light of love shining through young family's doors.