Bowman looks at a former rice plantation in South Carolina and sets two time periods side by side. A century ago, African women labored in the waterways, doing the hard work that made the land productive. Now the canals are choked with marsh grass and scraggly cypress, the fields lie fallow, and an osprey circles overhead.
The speaker never says "I feel," and that restraint is part of the effect. The tone is quiet and observational, like someone standing still and simply noting what is there. But the details do the work. Weeds and kudzu "strangle" the outbuildings, a harsh verb that suggests nature is taking back what people built. The women's labor is mentioned briefly, almost in passing, yet it hangs over the whole scene. The mood is stillness and abandonment, with a sense that the land holds a history it can't quite shake, even as it grows over.