Roadside recreation

At the South end of Harris County,
Tucked among the folds of Pine Mountain
Flow the quiet waters
Of Ossahatchee Creek.
No insignificant body of water
Has found so much merit
Since Thoreau built his habitation
On the banks of Walden Pond,
For hard on the eastern shore
Of Ossahatchee Creek
Sits the humble cinderblock edifice
Of the Oassahatchee Oyster Bar.

There, in the shade of the longleaf pines
You might find yourself sitting around a wooden picnic table
Under the whirr of a welcoming ceiling fan
Slurping down a dozen oysters or more,
Washing down their salty goodness,
With a cold, sweet lager from Milwaukee or St. Louis,
Watching the orange sun fade down below the hills
Toward Muscogee County and Columbus,
Later, you could tread gingerly
Through the parking lot among the pickup trucks and cars
To take your seat in Luke's Pub,
Where there you might enjoy a charcoal charred, bloody beefsteak
And share another round of beers to the coolness of the evening,
Sampling the fruits of turf and tide
Under the velvet canopy of a clear September sky.

Lord, if a place to lay my head were situated close by
Or a chauffeur to take me home, or even a nearby host
Other than the police chief
Of Waverly Hall,
I might pull into the busy parking lot
And satisfy my appetites,
Rather than continue my path eastward on the highway toward home.

After all, September has an 'r' in it.