And as my eyes do lift open softly
bathing the world in my sight,
While the bleary world passes
The car, and I see the most
Beauty offered by the south land.
Glimmering golden fields lit so brightly
The sun not yet at full mast
Wind bends grain’s tips of whiteness
Grain the color of well cooked toast
Cooked carefully by God’s hand
A little one dressed semi properly
Falls on her hands, does not cry
But crawls quick in the grasses
And grabs the dog’s tail, almost
As mom watches from’a porch fan.
Now the old chapel’s door opens fully
Out walks pastor Brown, called Mike
Going to have his breakfast,
Getting in the truck with rust,
And driving to Karie and Stan’s
The whippoorwills whistle somewhere faintly,
As deer swim in dim moonlight
The trees creak, the creek babbles
But the moon stands out foremost
Cleaner than on any other sand.
And now you might just see the south partially,
The south through my eyes you might
And love it’s beautiful fences
And love it’s delicious toast
Love the beauty if you can.