I rate the look of the bayou above the look of an overgrazed plain in winter, but can anything match a field of grass blooming in the wind?
Can anything match a reddening Midwestern oak, several stories tall?
The cypress in Louisiana could observe themselves in their mirror, the bayou, if they had eyes.
After 21 years, I still sometimes prefer the mountains from afar, as I saw them on the plane from New Orleans, a zigzag of white.
The cold follows us:
frost in Louisiana,
corn snow on our deck